


The Red Door

by SilverDust09



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dany does not know who she is, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, King Renly, R Plus L Equals J, Rewrite of A Red Door
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 71
Words: 140,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23790295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDust09/pseuds/SilverDust09
Summary: A rewrite of the story: The Red Door.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Robb Stark/Margaery Tyrell, Robb Stark/Roslin Frey (minor), Sansa Stark/Willas Tyrell
Comments: 780
Kudos: 725





	1. Dany

**Dany**

Dany had always loved watching the flames. For others they looked all the same, but not to her. There was something very comforting about them, for whenever she looked at them, she felt as if an old memory was trying to wedge its way back into her mind. Now, more than ever, she found herself dreaming of the past, but often enough she was unable to separate her dreams from her blurred memories.

She recalled not much from her childhood. All she could remember was the house with the red door and the lemon tree beyond her window. She also recalled that she had a brother who told her stories about dragons and knights and used to call her Dany.

Yet, her mistress preferred to call her Naerys.

It was the name she had muttered when her captors had found her starving on the streets of Braavos. Even Braavos was nothing more than a blurry memory after ten long years. She also knew that her brother had perished that night, though why all that had happened, she couldn’t say.

She had tried to remember, yet whatever had happened that night, she knew it must had been terrible.

And perhaps it was good that she didn’t recall these horrors. Her current life wasn’t bad. She was lucky that her captors had sold her to mistress Meema, a rich woman who was the owner of one of the most prestigious brothels of Volantis.

Her mistress had once been a courtesan herself and had served no other than the Old Tiger, but to Dany she had also been a mother as she had been to the many other girls she had collected from the streets to teach them music and other beautiful things to make their way in life.

And for Dany, this fact had never been hard to accept. She didn’t even know her father’s and mother’s names, only that both of them had died a long time ago.

Thus she had often pretended that mistress Meema was her mother, though they showed as little resemblance to each other as the moon and the sun.

Mistress Meema had bronze skin, shiny black hair and eyes of jade while Dany’s hair was pale like moonlight and a deep violet color, like the silk dresses the noble ladies of this city liked to wear.

"Naerys," mistress Meema's soothing voice called her back to the present. Like every morning, she was resting on her silken canopy, a fan in hand and her correspondence before her on the polished table. Her age was showing these days, her once black hair streaked by more grey strands than Dany was able to count. ”Come here. I have need of your help, sweet child."

"At once, mistress," she replied obediently and left her comfortable place before the hearth. She knelt down next to her mistress and kissed her hand.

The mistress smiled warmly and brushed her hand through Dany’s silver hair.

"Sweet child...bring me ink and paper. I have need of your translation abilities."

"Of course," Dany replied and walked over to the carved box made of dark cherrywood. Carefully, she opened the it and picked out ink and paper.

Unlike the other girls Dany was rather fluent in High Vayrian and thus her mistress liked to use her for translation work, as her correspondence was often addressed to the high nobility of Volantis. Naturally, Dany was sworn to secrecy, but the very idea of making use of her knowledge had never occurred her.

"Stop your dallying, sweet child!" her mistress called out and Dany was quick to join her side. Carefully, she spread the paper over the table and dipped the feather in the pot of ink. Then, she shifted her attention back to her mistress. “Shall I begin?"

Her mistress smiled and started to dictate her letter to one of the many merchants of this city. Dany knew many of them by name and also their dirty secrets. Many came here to escape from their daily lives, but some even used her mistress’ establishment to make secret business deals. Gods, even bribes and elections were often decided in these unholy halls.

It was not a particularly long letter and soon enough Dany was allowed to place the ink and paper back in the box.

"I thank you, sweet child, " her mistress replied and poured herself a cup of sweetened wine. Dany received a cup as well, but hers had more honey than usual. Her mistress knew her taste well.

"How old are you now, my child?" asked her mistress.

"I think I am ten and six…I have flowered a moon turn ago," Dany answered and searched her mistress’ beloved face.

"Do you know what that means, sweet child?" her mistress asked.

"I am going to serve," she replied. She wanted nothing more than to make her mistress proud, but deep down she also feared this uncertain future…

"You are certainly old enough," her mistress replied and touched the crown of her head. “And you are beautiful and accomplished in all things you set out to do. Truly, you are worth more than to be a wed warmer to a merchant son. I cannot make any promises yet, but I am determined to find you a fine patron.”

Dany was stunned to receive this piece of information, but she trusted her mistress more than anyone in the world.

“Which means,” her mistress continued and stroked her chin. “That you ought to keep your lips shut. It might stir up jealousy among the other girls.”

“I would never dare,” Dany agreed and lowered her head. “My lips are sealed.”

Yet, the words of her mistress left her no peace in the following nights.

“It is time to up, sleepyhead!” a cheerful voice roused her from her sleep. It was Doreah, a golden-haired and blue-eyed girl from Lys. She was also Dany’s friend, though she was several years older than her.

Dany smiled and stretched her legs before she crawled out of bed, the cool morning air touching her naked skin.

She was quick to pick up her robe and wrap the smooth garment around her shoulders.

“The mistress has called upon you,” Doreah informed her, after they had taken a quick bath and had taken care of each other’s hair. “She said it is important.”

“Are you sure?” Dany asked and took a bite from her peach. The fruit was sweeter than anything she knew. Not even honey could please her as much, but it was seldom treat. “She hasn’t called for me in nearly three days.”

“She was busy,” Doreah whispered into her ear. “She was vising the Black Walls more than once. I think she found someone of us a wealthy patron.”

Dany nodded her head in agreement, but felt also guilt when she heard how hopeful Doreah sounded.

Many nobles in Volantis married for political reasons and thus it was not uncommon that a well-liked courtesan would find a home as a concubine and her children could become heirs or at least freeborn citizens.

It was a dream for many of the girls here, but only few were chosen.

“I shall go to her at once,” Dany said at last and emptied her cup of milk.

When she entered her mistress’ solar, she found her seated next to the open window.

She was coughing, but smiling.

“There you are, my sweet child.”

“I am here to serve,” Dany replied and kissed her hand gently before sitting down on the cushioned stool beside her. “Doreah told me to come at once.”

“Doreah can always be relied on,” her mistress said and smiled, as she waved a folded piece of paper in front of her nose. On the front was a broken sigil: a golden tiger. “But let us speak about other things. Do you know this crest?”

“This is the golden tiger,” Dany replied obediently and placed her hands back on her knees. “Do you want me to write another letter, mistress?”

“Oh, no,” her Mistress said and leaned down to kiss her cheek. “This letter is meant for you. Open it.”

Dany’s heart had nearly jumped out of her chest when she had heard this.

She had never received a letter. Her hands were shaking, as she unfolded the piece of paper.

It were nothing more than a handful of lines, written in perfect High Valyrian, but it meant everything.

A way to leave this gilded cage.

Still, Dany had a hard time making sense of it all.

“Why would the Triarch of Volantis choose someone like me for his grandson?”

Mistress Meema smiled sweetly and leaned down to touch her chin.

“Have you ever looked into the mirror, sweet child? I do not know who birthed you, but you are clearly of Valyrian blood, more so than the best-bred girls from Lys. And that is exactly what the Old Tiger craves for. His only son was been born of the womb of a concubine that lacked the silver hair and purple eyes that had been common to his family for many centuries. His grandson als lacks such Valyrian features and on top of that, neither his sickly wife nor his favorite concubine have birthed him a son. That is why he needs you.”

Dany was taken back by this. She had expected to be some pleasant companion, but not to be tasked with breeding an heir.

“You are so silent, sweet child?” Her mistress asked and searched her gaze. “Are you not pleased?”

“I am pleased,” Dany replied and meant it. It was more than a motherless child like her could have hoped for. “When shall I meet them?”

“In a week turn,” her mistress explained and embraced her. She kissed her brow softly. “I shall accompany you and I think it would be good for you to take Doreah with you. Everyone has need of a lady friend and she has seen much more of the world than you.”

The day of their departure proved hot and humid, but the cool breeze coming from the sea and helped to ease the heat.

Not that Dany was particularly bothered by the heat. On the contrary, hear heart was racing more than ever, as she eyed the world outside her gilded cage. Every impression, every smell, and every color she tried to memorize.

That it was the end of the year made it all the more exciting, for it meant the streets were bustling with parades and other games the candidates blessed their people with to gain their votes for the upcoming election.

“Sweet child, pull back the curtains,” her mistress’ soft voice called her back to the present. She had pulled the drapes apart to get a good look at the broad street and the black walls that loomed ahead of them. “A noble lady does not show herself to the commons.”

Dany sighed, pulled the drapes back and settled back into her cushioned seat. Her gaze dropped to her revealing dress made of the softest of cloth. It was a dress fit for a princess and made of pale silk that gave a clear view on the soft curves beneath. Yet, that was not the only gift her mistress had made to her. Her neck and her arms were bedecked with jewels. It made her feel heavier than she was, but perhaps that were only her mistress’ expectations weighing down on her.

Doreah cuddled closer and patted Dany’s shoulder, a gesture of encouragement.

Dany returned the gesture with a smile and closed her eyes, listening to the noises of the city outside.

She hadn’t seen how they had entered the black walls nor did her mistress to look.

There were many rumors about the black walls among the slaves and servants, which made the disappointment sting all the more.

Only when they arrived at their final destination, were they allowed to leave their litter.

Dany was silent, as she eyed the large mansion in awe. It was a three-storied building made of red bricks and a gilded roof. Around it stood high walls, held by marble pillars.

Guardsmen led them inside the mansion. One spacious hall after another followed. The entire mansion was made of the same red bricks and the walls were covered with golden crenellations and paintings. Dany had never seen so much splendor in one place, but when they were led out to the gardens, her heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

Trees with a dress of bright green, exotic flowers and a small pond cold be found among marble pillars that stood lonely in its midst.

There, in the middle of the gardens was also a large pavilion filled with all kinds of people.

Dany recognized the Old Tiger at once. He had hardly changed since the last time she had seen him. His hair was grey as ever, but his deep purple eyes pierced into hers, as they stepped closer.

Seated a bit lower, was his oldest son and heir, Magarro, a tall and bronze-skinned man with eyes as dark as obsidian. As all nobles of the city, he wore a long white robe covered with a crimson robe that was wrapped around his shoulder in a rather complicated fashion. His wife sat beside him on a soft cushion, most of her face hidden by a veil. Not far from her sat a young man with a slightly lighter complexion than his father and a little below his feet Dany noticed a very beautiful woman garbed in a dream of crimson. Unlike the other woman her skin was pale like milk and her bright blue eyes betrayed a hint of displeasure.

“Welcome,” the Old Tiger said after they had all knelt at his feet. “It is good to see you hale, old friend.”

Mistress Meema smiled and pulled up her veil.

“It is also a pleasure to see you again, my Lord,” she said, but never looked at him, as she turned back to Dany. “As promised, I brought you my beautiful Naerys.”

Dany pulled off her veil and kept her gaze lowered, as she addressed the Old Tiger in the appropriate manner.

“I am pleased to meet you, my Lord.”

The Old Tiger did not answer at once, but leaned forward in his chair, as he eyed her from head to toe.

Dany tried her best not to flinch beneath his measuring gaze.

“A true beauty,” he declared at last and waved his hand at her mistress. “I am pleased.”

Then, he waved his hands at the servants, indicating for them to bring fresh fruits and sweetened wine.

The peaches tasted heavenly and the apples were even better, but Dany had no time to enjoy her meal, for the Old tiger’s grandson was eying her constantly, a smile curling on his lips.

Dany was still a maid, but she had seen enough of these noble lords to know that this one was of the vain sort, which was not necessarily a bad thing. The humble ones were much harder to seduce or so her mistress had thought her, but they could also be dangerous, because they rarely kept to one woman.

This suspicion was also confirmed by the beautiful woman at his feet that was constantly watching her.

“Your mistress says you are well-educated?” the Old Tiger asked. ”What can you do, child?”

Dany felt the urge to answer, but recalled in time what her mistress had told her. Instead of answering she lifted her fan and lowered her gaze to the ground.

“She is a bit shy,” her mistress cooed softly. “But she is well-educated, most-likely better than most of your ladies here behind the black walls. She speaks fluent High Valyrian, knows her history and plays the high harp, all appropriate accomplishments for a noble lady.”

“And her breeding?” the Old Tiger asked straight to the point. “I can see by her fine features that she has Valyrian Blood, but is she also from a good family?”

“She is of a noble family,” her mistress lied. “From Braavos.”

“Did the man who sold her to you give a name?” the Old Tiger asked.

“No,” her mistress replied calmly. “But that is no surprise. She was born from a concubine.”

“I see,” the Old Tiger said and eyed Dany once more, a soft smile playing on his wrinkled lips. ”It is no surprise to me that someone wanted to get rid of her. Whoever her mother was, she must have been very beautiful.”

Her mistress returned his smile and lowered he fan.

“What does this mean, my Lord?”

The Old tiger nodded his head and waved his hand at his grandson.

“It means that I am pleased with your choice, my friend. Your girl may stay and by my grandson’s smile I can tell that he is pleased as well.”

Dany looked back at the young lord.

He was smiling at her, but Dany did what her mistress had told her to do. She used her fan to cover her mouth and only then did she meet his gaze.

“That is good to hear,” her mistress said and smiled. “How will we proceed from here?”

“The Lady Naerys will be settled with the other women and then we shall speak about the price. In a moon from now we shall celebrate a wedding.”

Dany felt, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from her shoulders, as she settled into the hot pool of water that one of the servant girls had prepared for her. The bathing house of the mansion was large and decorated with even more golden crenellations that covered the walls and floor with exotic animals of all kind.

“This place is heaven,” Doreah declared from her place beside the pool of water. She was naked, her golden hair wet and dripping. “You are so lucky.”

Dany sighed and opened her eyes. Then, she swam back to Doreah’s side and leaned on the marbled stone.

“Perhaps,” Dany said and eyed the other women from the distance. Among them was the beautiful lady she had seen earlier. “But the mistress said the Young Tiger already has a favorite. I think the beautiful lady with the milk-like skin is his concubine.”

Doreah’s blue eyes widened in surprise.

“Are you sure? How could you tell?”

“She was constantly glaring at me,” Dany replied and dipped her head into the water.

When she resurfaced again, she stepped out of the water. Doreah followed suit, offering her a towel which she used to dry herself.

The head overseer expected them outside in company of his guard. He was a short, bare-headed man with a small beard. His small black eyes eyed her nipples more than once, though she could tell by his womanly voice that he was an eunuch.

“Here are your chambers, my ladies,” he announced once they had reached a gilded door. “If you have need of help, call for the guards. Your supper shall be served soon.

“Where is my mistress?”

“Attending to her business,” she received in return.

Dany tried to appear indifferent to the spectacle that could be witnessed through the small window of her litter. The celebrations of the upcoming elections were continuing till the end of the year and today was another parade.

Dany had attended such a parade when she had been much younger and still a child walking at her brother’s hand.

There had been no elephants with golden armour. There had been no acrobats whirling through the air like monkeys. There had been no lions, no crocodiles and giraffes being led through the city by half-naked children from the Summer Islands. There had also been no fire acrobats or soothsayers going among the crowd. No, it had never been a great spectacle like this.

“Do you like the parade?” asked the Young Tiger. He was never unfriendly to her, but she didn’t like his constant smiles. “My grandfather is paying for everything. It is his way to bribe himself into the hearts of his subjects. _Given them bread and games and they will be yours_. It is the golden rule in Volanteen politics.”

Dany nodded her head obediently and tried to smile. It was quite clear that the young man thought himself very clever for reciting this very well-known saying.

“Is it?” asked the noble lady across Dany. Her name was Lady Lynesse and she hailed from Westeros or so Dany had been told. She was also the Young Tiger’s favourite concubine. “I thought it was not to allow your opponents to poison you.”

The Young Tiger chuckled.

“Lynesse is right. That should be the second golden rule of Volanteen politics.”

The lady smiled rightly and turned her head to look at Dany. Her braided hair was as elegant as her silver dress and the rings of copper guarding her neck.

“We will have to call the seamstress for you,” Lady Lynesse added and waved her fan at Dany. “I shall make all the arrangements for you.”

Dany was taken back by this forward offer, but she could scarcely refuse, for she had already noticed that the Young Tiger was very fond of Lady Lynesse and valued her advice.

“I thank you, my lady. Your offer is most kind.”

“Good to hear,” Lady Lynesse replied and bared her teeth. “I want us to be good friends.”

Dany returned the smile and shifted her attention back to the spectacle out in the street.

In truth, she wanted none of Lady Lynesse’s beautiful dresses. She would much prefer to leave this litter behind her and join these jolly men and woman.

Yes, she didn’t long for wealth, but for freedom. Yet, then she also longed for her home, a home that had perished with her brother, whose name she had forgotten, but now suddenly remembered.

Viserys.

When they crossed the bridge leading to the other half of the city, Dany shifted her attention back to the Young Tiger.

“Where are we going?”

“To the Red Temple,” he explained and pointed at a large building made of red stone and high towers kissing the blue sky above. Dany had visited the temple many times in company of the other girls, but it was a rare sight to see someone of Volantis nobility there. In fact, she had heard more than once that the Old Tiger despised the Red Priests more than anything in this world.

“Why?” Dany asked in return. “Are you a follower?”

The young man laughed. “Gods, no, but I want to make sure that you are what you claim to be…someone of pure blood.”

Dany was taken back by this revelation. “I do not understand.”

“The red priests claim they can see how powerful the blood of a person is…how powerful and pure,” he explained and lifted her hand to his lips. His kiss felt dry and cold. “You see, my grandfather has an odd trust in your mistress, but I am not as trusting, especially not towards a former whore.”

Dany had tried her best to keep her composure. Instead of flinching, she had clenched her teeth and had averted her gaze the moment the young man had dropped her hand.

“I see,” she replied and wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulder. “But I do not see how these red priests could know such things.”

“I do not believe in their god,” the Young Tiger replied. “But they have magic. I have experience it when I was a young boy.”

This roused Dany’s curiosity.

“How so?”

An almost sad expression washed over the Young Tiger’s face.

“When I was a young boy I nearly drowned. I was very close to death or so my older sister claimed. It was a red priestess who brought me back to life. She gave her blood for it.”

Dany shook her head in disbelief. “And your sister paid witness to this tale?”

“She did,” the Young Tiger confirmed and averted his gaze for a moment. “But then she is also a lowly whore who didn’t do her duty and left us many years ago.”

Dany was shocked to hear him speak so about his sister.

Yet, she also knew it was no good idea to delve further into this matter and decided to keep her mouth shut.

It was none of her business.

When they arrived at the red temple they were greeted by two acolytes in red robes and shaved heads. They offered them wine and bread before they led them deeper into the temple’s sanctuary where they were brought before a high priestess in slightly darker robes. Her face was hidden behind a shiny mask. Only her eyes were visible, two black twin stars, piercing into Dany.

“Is this your bride, Young Tiger?” she asked and turned to look at Dany. “Come here and let me see you, dear girl.”

Dany did as she was asked and climbed up the steps to take the woman’s hand.

Her hands felt warm, as they brushed over her upper arm all the way to her neck.

“To find your answers you must leave this place, dear child,” she whispered into her ears. It was a low and soft voice. “It means only death for you. Beware of the blue-eyed viper and the young tiger. Beware.”

Dany had tried to recoil, but the woman held her close.

“The glass candles are burning,” she continued to whisper. “Trust no one, I say. Neither the old tiger nor the good mistress. Beware of lions, bears and griffons and most of all…of false dragons and golden krakens and the perfumed seneschal. Trust only the wolves.”

Dany opened her mouth to protest, but the Young Tiger interrupted their conversation.

“And? What do you say, high priestess?”

“She has kingsblood,” the red priestess confirmed and leaned closer. “I can feel it.”

“Then, I am satisfied,” the Young Tiger replied and handed one of the acolytes a bag of gold. “I thank you, high priestess.”

“So, did the Young Tiger show you the city?” Doreah asked her upon her return to their chamber. They had bathed and Doreah had helped her braid her hair. And now she was attending to her dress, as she needed to look well when she went to see Lady Lynesse and her seamstress. “I heard there was a grand parade?”

“Yes,” Dany replied and bit her lips, hesitating. Doreah was very superstitious. She would only be spooked by what had happened. Truth be told, Dany was also spooked by what happened. “He showed me. It was wonderful.”

“And even more wonderful is that you won Lady Lynesse friendship,” Doreah added approvingly. “It will make things easier for us.”

“For sure,” Dany agreed and smiled at her companion. “Which is why I am going alone. She said she wanted to see only me.”

Doreah looked disappointed but accepted her wishes.

As expected, Lady Lynesse greeted her with all the splendour in which she liked to garb herself. There was a bowl of fresh fruits and her dress looked even finer than the one she had worn in the morning. And at her naked feet sat a monkey, a hideous beast with sharp teeth.

“You are welcome,” Lynesse replied and had her servants pour wine into Dany’s cup. “For the time being, I shall present to you some of my dresses. My seamstress is indisposed. I think one of her children is sick.”

Lady Lynesse had wrinkled her nose when she had said this.

“But my dresses should suit your stature just fine. We even have the same fair complexion. The Young Tiger says that we look like sisters.”

Dany wasn’t sure if she wanted this lady as her sister, but she played along and took a sip from her cup. It was sweet wine, just like Dany liked it. It made her wonder if her mistress had told someone of her likings.

“We do share the same hair color,” Dany agreed. “I suppose that makes us look similar.”

“Indeed,” Lady Lynesse agreed and jerked her head at one of her ladies. “And now let us take a look at the dresses.”

The girls presented a good dozen of dresses to Dany and Lynesse offered her opinion to each of them. In the end, Dany chose three and was glad when she was allowed to leave.

The wine had made her tired.

When she reached her chamber, she hoped to find Doreah, but strangely her friend was nowhere to be seen. Yet, when she called upon the head overseer she received her answer.

“The lady decided to take a bath.”

Satisfied with this answer Dany stumbled back towards her bed. She felt very sickly and reached for the bedding, but then suddenly didn’t feel her legs anymore and kissed the ground.

Then she saw only darkness.

When Dany woke again, she found herself bound and lying face down in a dark room.

“She is awake,” said a man with a heavy foreign accent. “A pretty girl? Who is that and what do you want me to do with her?”

Dany hadn’t been able to see his face at first, but when another person joined them and held a latern into her face, she was finally able to make out their features.

The man who had joined them Dany already knew. It was the head overseer, but the other man was a stranger.

He was tall and very hairy. He reminded Dany of these bears mummers showed around at fairs. His accents also told her that he didn’t hail from the Free Cities.

Dany felt the urge to curse, but her mouth was covered.

“I thought you might be able to sell her and get us a fine price.”

The other man frowned and stroked his beard, as he regarded Dany carefully.

“That depends,” the bear-like man said. “Is she still a maid?”

“That is what her mistress claimed,” the head overseer replied. “She is a trustworthy woman. I do not think she lied. She would not be stupid enough to offer her to my Lord if she was no maid.”

“Well, then,” the bear-like man grumbled. “I think I could find a buyer from Yunkai. They have always need for virgins.”

“Not Yunkai,” the head oversee replied and shook his head. Dany was glad for that. Yunkai was no good place to go. “Not Essos. She needs to be taken far away. Do you understand?”

The bear-like man frowned and eyed Dany once more. “Is she someone special?”

“No,” the head overseer replied. “But the girl needs to leave, and my mistress said there is no one better than Ser Jorah. They say you have connections beyond Essos.”

“I do,” the man grumbled and looked at Dany once more. “Very well, I think I know someone who has need of a virgin whore, but do not expect as high as a price as usual. The fools in Westeros do not pay as much.”

The head overseer smiled and bowed his head low. “I would never presume.”

…


	2. Jon

**Jon**

Jon felt a hint of displeasure when he left the hot bath behind him. It was a pleasure that was not often afforded to them, unless they went to the godswood, but the last storm had made it almost impossible to go outside without freezing one’s balls off. Just listening to the howling wind at night made it hard to believe that the king was riding for Winterfell let alone that he would be able to make it here alive.

At times, Jon wished he didn’t, for he knew what his visit would mean for his future. He had heard the servants whisper about it. The king was coming here because of his father, which also meant that Jon would have to leave. He hardly spoke with Lady Stark, but he was sure she would expect Lord Stark to send him away if he were to leave Winterfell.

His only hope would be to speak to his father or Robb, but then Jon was not the kind of person to beg. No, he knew his future lay elsewhere: the Night’s Watch, where he would find himself among equals and perhaps friends. Most importantly, Uncle Benjen would be there for him and he would no longer have to endure Lady Stark’s sharp looks. He was sick and tired of it all.

“Jon,” Robb said and smiled, as he watched him fasten his cloak. “Today is your nameday, isn’t it?”

Jon was not surprised by Robb’s question. His siblings always recalled his nameday, especially Arya, who had already congratulated him in the morn and had gifted him a handkerchief with an embroidered wolf. Well, it had looked more like a white rabbit than a wolf, but his little sister was trying hard.

“Aye,” Jon replied and noticed that Theon was snickering beside him. It meant that he was plotting something. “Today is my nameday. What of it?”

Robb smiled and patted his shoulder. “It means I have a gift for you, brother. Will you come with us to Wintertown?”

Jon knew what his brother was really trying to say. Do you want to come and see the whores?

“Gods, you look as if Robb commanded you to eat your balls, Snow!” Theon exclaimed.

Theon’s remark roused Jon’s defiance. If not for Theon’s stupid remark, he might have just refused Robb, but now there was no backing out.

He didn’t want to appear a coward.

“Of course,” Jon replied and forced a smile over his lips, as he looked at Robb. “Let’s go to Wintertown.”

And all seemed well until arrived at Wintertown. Even the storm had eased and a nightsky full of stars lightened their way.

Still, Jon couldn’t help but to flush when they entered the brothel. It was not that he was afraid of girls, but Theon’s biting remarks made him want to bury his fist in his face and silence him forever.

“Are you well, brother?” Robb asked after they had entered the common room. As every time, the brothel was filled with a good dozen of customers and the girls were lingering in every corner of the room.

Some of them rushed to Theon’s side when they noticed his presence, but Jon doubted it was because of his pleasant presence. No, it was because of the coin he brought them. Well, perhaps it were also his good looks, for Theon was not ugly by any means, but a vain piece of shit. At times, Jon believed he wasn’t even aware that he was still his father’s hostage…

“Jon,” Robb’s voice made him turn his head. “Are you well?”

“I am well,” Jon assured him and gritted his teeth. “Truly, I am well.”

“Of course, you are,” Robb replied and lead the way. “You are ten and seven. It is time…believe me. You will like it.”

“As you say, brother,” Jon muttered to himself, as the owner of the brothel came to greet them.

He was short in stature and had a pair of yellow teeth he wasn’t ashamed to hide from the world.

He beamed at Robb.

“M’Lord Stark,” the man said. “How may I be of service to you?”

“Oh, no girl for me,” Robb explained and jerked his head at Jon. “Today is my brother’s nameday and I wish to be generous.”

The man rubbed his hands together, as he leaned closer.

“Then, you are lucky. We have two maids from Essos,” he said and waved his hands at one of his underlings. It was big man with red hair and a freckled face. “Bring the girls.”

“Maids?” Theon asked and looked suddenly very disappointed. “Sadly, I cannot afford maids. You have the luck of the stranger, Snow.”

Jon said nothing or he feared this whole endeavour might just end in a brawl.

Robb seemed completely oblivious to the tension and nodded his head at the man.

“Please…show them to us,” Robb said.

Not long after, the underling brought to girls. One girl had red hair and the other silver-blond hair.

It was an uncommon hair color in the North. Her eyes were even stranger to look upon.

They were purple, like dark silk.

“This one is called Naerys…like the queen. The other one is called Maara…she is a bit wild.”

Jon swallowed hard, all eyes resting on him in this unpleasant moment. He didn’t know what to say.

Then, the silver-haired girl lifted her head and met his gaze.

It was a look of disgust.

Jon turned his head to look at her. He wanted to refuse, but when he saw Theon’s smug smile he fell silent gain.

“Well chosen,” The owner said and patted Jon’s shoulder, who had not said a single word.

Not that Jon cared. He wouldn’t have been able to make a choice on his own.

“Very well,” Robb said and started to reach for the bag of coins fastened at his belt. “I shall take care of the payment.”

Jon still hadn’t moved.

“What are you waiting for, Snow?” Theon asked and grinned, as one of the other girls slipped her hand into his breeches. “Do you need me to tell you where to put it?”

“I know where to put it!” Jon almost snarled at the foolish heir to the Iron Islands and wheeled around to follow the girl.

Quietly, the girl led him up the staircase, but that only increased his discomfort.

When the girl closed the door behind them, his heart nearly jumped out of his chest.

What disturbed him the most was the silence.

Was she afraid or just unable to speak?

Instead she started to pull off her clothing.

The act alone was enough to increase Jon’s discomfort. He had seen naked girls, both his sisters and others, but this was different.

His mother might have been like her.

The thought alone made it hard to think clearly.

When the girl had pulled off her dress, leaving her only in her smallclothes, she stopped and looked at him.

“Are you unwell, my lord?” she asked in a heavy accent.

“I am no lord,” Jon replied sharply, unable to hold his tongue. Usually, people only called him lord to taunt him for his lowly birth. “I am Jon Snow…and I do not think this is a good idea.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

“Why?” she asked. “Isn’t that why you are here?”

Jon swallowed hard.

“I am here because my brother wants to be generous. He thinks I need to have a woman before I go to the Wall.”

“What does this Wall have to do with having a woman?” the girl asked in return and sat down on the bed, her small hands smoothing over the bedding. Her lack of knowledge confirmed that she was not from these lands, yet her strange accent and her purple eyes could have told him that as well.

“I am going to join the Night’s Watch and men of the Night’s Watch are not allowed to marry or father children.”

“I see,” the girl said after a moment of silence had passed between them. “But what does fathering children have to do with having a woman?”

Jon was stunned. He hadn’t expected such a question.

“Well, you are a maid…I suppose you don’t know much about these things. The reason is rather simple: having a woman leads to children and I do not wish to father a bastard like myself.”

“Bastard?” the girl asked and repeated the word, as if it was foreign to her lips. “What does that mean?”

“It means that I am born out of wedlock. A bastard life is not a good life. It is full of hardships.”

“Why?” the girl asked and smiled. It felt as if she was teasing him. “Why is it full of hardships?”

“Because people shun you. Bastards are cursed by the seven.”

The girl laughed again and rose to her feet to pour herself a cup of wine. Then she took a quick sip and shifted her attention back to Jon.

“I don’t know anything about these seven, but my mistress told me I was born from the loins of some noble lord from Braavos,” the girl explained. “I think that would also make me a bastard, no? Well, my life was a happy one. In my mistress’ home I had a feather bed and gilded cups to drink from. I learned High Valyrian and the high harp. Thus, I think it is wrong to say that the life of a bastard is always bad.”

Jon hadn’t expected such an answer. It also felt, as if she was mocking him.

“You are jesting with me, are you not?” he asked and stepped closer. “How come the daughter of some noble lord ends up as a maiden whore?”

She frowned at that.

“I was sold. It is simple as that,” she replied tartly and shrugged her shoulders. “Tell me, what makes your life so full of hardships?”

Jon shrugged his shoulders. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Because it is a shame to be a bastard. People curse you and think you are wicked.”

“People think and do a lot of things,” the girl replied and met his gaze. “I still don’t see your supposed hardships or why you have to go to this Wall? Can’t you do something else?”

The idea had occurred to Jon before. He had dreamed of being a knight, but he had never found the courage to ask his father about it.

However, he certainly didn’t want to bare his childhood dreams to this forward girl.

“The Wall is the only place for a bastard like me. Aye, I do not want for food or shelter, but I am a stranger in my father’s home…” he continued, but stopped himself when he noticed her sad look.

“Who told you that?” the girl asked again. “Is this another rule of these seven?”

“No,” Jon replied and finally sat down beside her. He was tired of this back and forth and started to pull of his boots. “But I have a duty.”

“Duty to whom?” she asked again. It was bloody annoying.

“My father…to ease the shame he must feel for having fathered me. By joining the Night’s Watch, I can achieve that."

The girl’s next words pierced even deeper.

“If your father is ashamed for fathering you, then doesn't deserve to be called your father."

"How can you even say such a silly thing?" he asked and fisted the bedding. ”It seems to me as if you didn’t even know your father. Mine is a good man, honourable and noble of heart.”

“No,” she snapped back and averted her pretty face. “But I think he is dead…as are my mother and brother.”

The guilt came faster than lightening.

"I...," Jon stuttered and lowered his head apologetically. “I am truly sorry."

"You are a strange boy, Jon Snow," she said and pursed her lips, as she eyed him once more. ”That is your name, isn’t it?"

“Aye,” he confirmed. “That is my name.”

“Jon Snow,” she repeated and smiled. Her hand resting on his cheek felt warm and comforting. “I can assure you this: you won’t have to worry about bastards. I know how to make moon tea.”

He frowned and brushed her hand away.

"Why would you even agree?"

She sighed heavily.

"You are at least pretty to look at,” she replied and crossed her arms in front of her. “And you are acting as if I have a choice to refuse without getting punished.”

Her answer made his cheeks burn and filled his belly with fresh anger.

“I should go to my father and tell him about this man. Buying and employing slaves is a crime.”

For some reason, his answer seemed to anger the girl.

“Do you even understand what you are saying?” she asked him. “By selling us out we are all going to end up on the street and I doubt your lord father is going to feed us, is he?”

Jon was taken back by her answer, but she was right. What would his lord father do with a brothel full of whores? Even Jon couldn’t say.

“I didn’t mean,” he replied and brushed his hand through his hair. It was much shorter than he usually kept it, but Lady Stark had insisted they all get a haircut before the king arrives, which made no bloody sense, because Jon doubted he would be allowed in the king’s presence in the first place. “I shall keep my mouth shut, I promise.”

“You are a good person,” the girl said then and smoothed his dishevelled hair. Then, she leaned closer to kiss him softly. “And I am not lying. I do not mind it.”

He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, touching his lips to hers.

It left him wanting for more.

Yet, she let go of him and pulled off the rest of her clothing.

The sight made his breeches uncomfortably tight.

He was suddenly torn between running away and kissing her again.

It was her, who crossed the distance and kissed him once more, her hands moving back through his hair.

Her lips were so very soft, and he was soon losing himself to her touch.

Carefully, she helped him remove the rest of his clothing.

Only when she started to pull on the bindings of his breeches did he stop her.

“I may be a maid, but I know what I am doing,” she assured him and touched him gently.

A gasp escaped him. He felt both shame and lust washing over him.

He had to ball his fists and close his eyes to not be overwhelmed by these feelings.

“Don’t fret,” she assured him again, as she helped him pull down the rest of his breeches. “Boys are luckier. It doesn’t hurt them or so I heard.”

Her jest made him laugh.

“So, I have heard,” he replied and touched her shoulder. She smiled down at him, as she settled herself atop him.

A hint of discomfort washed over her face and a small gasp left her mouth.

“Are you well?” he asked and touched her silver hair. She smiled a little. It was the kind of smile that tugged at the heartstrings.

“I think so,” she replied and balanced herself against his chest. Jon bit back a groan and another, as she continued to move clumsily.

It was too tight and too warm.

It took not much for him to be done and afterwards he felt both pleasure and shame.

That the girl was calmly washing herself bothered him even more.

How could she be so calm?

“Do you want to wash yourself?” she asked him as well, but he felt the need to leave at once.

He just needed to be somewhere else.

“I am well,” he lied, put on his clothing and slipped out of the room.

When he finally returned to his chambers in Winterfell he hoped to find some peace, but instead he found Arya curled up in his bed with Ghost and Nym. They were still pups, but all three of them hardly fit into Jon’s bed.

Ghost was the first one to stir from his sleep and came to lick his hand. He was hungry, so much Jon could tell.

Nym was the second one to wake and Arya the third.

The sight of her made Jon laugh.

Her nightgown was crumpled, and her brown hair looked like a birdsnest. He also doubted Lady Stark would approve of his little sister sneaking away, but when it came to Arya, he gave no fuck about Lady Stark’s opinion.

“What are you doing here, little sister?” he asked her and sat down beside her. “Were you not able to find your own bed?”

Arya chuckled and punched his shoulder before she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“You are stupid! Of course, I know where my bed is, but today is your nameday! I wanted to spend time with you, but you ran off with Robb and Theon!”

Jon pulled her closer and ruffled her hair. “I didn’t know. You should have told me.”

“I wanted, but I was not sure if could get away. Mother punished me because I insulted Sansa,” she explained and giggled, as she tried to put her hair back in place. It was a pointless endeavour. “It was just so bloody annoying to hear her prattle on about this stupid prince all day long. She hasn’t even met him and is already making up names for their bloody children!”

“Bloody here and bloody there?” Jon asked and stroked his hand over Ghost’s head. Nym was snuggling close to Arya. “Is that your new favourite word? As for Sansa…you know how she is. Well, I think she is not wrong. The king is surely not coming here for a simple visit. He wants something from father.”

Arya’s grey eyes widened in surprise and she moved closer, searching his face.

“Well, I hope the king allows father to stay here and takes Sansa with him instead.”

Jon chuckled. Sansa usually avoided him and that hurt, but she was never particularly cruel to him either.

It wouldn’t make much of a difference for him if she was no longer in his life.

Arya was a different matter.

He wished he could just wrap her up in in his blanket and take her with him to the Wall.

“I think you would miss her eventually.”

Arya laughed.

“Perhaps you are right. I would have no one to fight with. Life would be rather dull.”

Jon ruffled her hair once more, but she pushed his had away.

“But you are not going away, are you?” Arya asked and held unto his arm.

Jon said nothing to that.

“You should go back to your own bed, Arya,” he said and recoiled from her touch. “You are nearly ten and two. It is unseemly.”

Arya shook her head and gave him a defiant expression.

“I will decide what is unseemly or not.”

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see I am writing shorter chapters, but it is easier for me that way and you will regular updates.
> 
> But next up is one of my other stories. So the next chapter will probably come out on the weekend or on the beginning of next week.


	3. Dany

**Dany**

_Dany had watched the bear-like man closely. No, he was no bear, but had a proper name like everyone else. The head overseer had told her. His name was Ser Jorah and by Dany’s estimation he was familiar with Lady Lynesse, the woman who was most likely responsible for her current fate._

_She was still bound, and her mouth covered. At times, the bear-like man allowed her to make water or gave her some food, but he hardly spoke to her, though at times she noticed that he was glimpsing at her from the distance, as if he were trying to search her face for someone else._

_Desperate to ease her fate, she tried to appeal to the man._

_“Ser Jorah?” she asked the bear-like man one day when he brought her apples and bread for supper. “That is your name, isn’t it?”_

_He grumbled at her to eat, but Dany didn’t let go._

_“The head overseer called you that,” Dany said and picked up the apple. “So, I assumed it is your name.”_

_“I am Ser Jorah,” he confirmed at last and continued to sharpen his blade. Dany could tell by his build that he knew how to fight and guessed that he was earning his wage as a sellsword. “What of it? You will soon be sold and never see me again, girl.”_

_Dany had expected that answer and forced a smile over her lips._

_“You don’t have to sell me. Just let me go and I shall never go back to the Triarch’s house,” she replied and placed the apple back on the table._

_“Eat,” he had grumbled. “Or starve.”_

_Dany complied and afterwards she could wash herself, as Ser Jorah claimed that no slaver would buy a stinking girl._

_Dany did what was asked of her and washed herself with tepid water from a bowl while Ser Jorah was watching her closely._

_It wasn’t like it had bothered her to be watched in the past. In fact, she had been used to be seen. She had always been bathing with the other girls since she had arrived at her mistress’ house and sometimes the customers had found their way into their secluded area to pry on them. Usually, it had been drunken fools who had therefore been made to pay for the honour of seeing her mistress’ girls._

_Ser Jorah watching her felt very different._

_It had bothered her how he had looked at her. As if she was nothing more than a piece of flesh to be sold._

_And perhaps she was, because her mistress had done the same. Back then, it hadn’t bothered Dany to be sold, because her mistress had always been kind to her and had filled her mind with promises of a happy life._

_Ser Jorah had done no such thing. No, he had held her like prisoner and had looked at her, as if he had wanted to fuck her right there._

_“You are prettiest girl I have ever seen,” he even complimented her when she was done and brushed his rough hand over her breast. Dany recoiled and landed on her arse. The ground was hard and unpleasant, but even more unpleasant was the mans lustful gaze. “And you are so unlike the other whores.”_

_“I am a courtesan,” Dany told him in return and quickly pulled on her dress. “No whore.”_

_“Well,” Ser Jorah said and spat on the ground. “I don’t see much of a difference. My wife would probably alike to call herself a courtesan as well but in truth she is nothing more than a lowly whore. You know her well, girl. Her name is Lady Lynesse and she is fucking the Young Tiger day and night. You also resemble her somewhat. Truly, if you weren’t a maid I would be sorely tempted to keep you…,” he trailed off._

“Get the fuck out of bed, girl!”

Dany had barely opened her eyes when the cold water had hit her face.

Not that it would have made any difference. She was always freezing in this place and neither her woollen stockings nor her cloak were any use against the cold.

Ser Jorah had kept his promise to the head overseer. He had made sure that she would be as far away from Volantis as possible.

Dany could scarcely recall how much time had passed since she had sailed over the stormy sea to this cold land, full of snow and stinking people.

But that was not the worst about it. The worst was the owner.

His name was Maryn and he smelled like a heap of sheep dung and had the temper of a bull.

Whenever someone did something wrong, he become violent. So far, he had never hurt Dany, for she had been one of the few maids in his establishment. She had been meant to be sold off at a fine price, yet that had changed a day ago.

Someone had finally employed her services at a rather fine price, but her owner was still hoping that the Stark heir or this Theon Greyjoy might come back to buy her services once more.

“Get up!” her owner shouted again, and Dany crawled out of bed, shivering from head to toe. The world beyond the shutters of her room was still dark. It must be close to dawn, though she could also see a glimpse of red light. “Get up! We have an important guest!”

Dany did as she was asked. She quickly pulled on her dress before fasting the furred cloak around her shoulders. Downstairs, she could hear the sizzling sound of the hearth and felt the urge to jump into the fire to warm her frozen feet, but instead she was called upon to stand in line with the girls to receive their guest.

A very strange guest.

He was a dwarf, a very well-dressed dwarf.

Dany was both confused and fascinated. The only dwarfs she had seen were performers in mummeries or servants.

But never had she seen a dwarf that was addressed like a noble lord.

Yet, not even his fine clothing could hide his ugliness.

He looked more like a child than a man and his small legs and arms made him walk in a droll manner that made the other girls laugh.

“Shut the fuck up!” their owner snapped at them before he shifted his attention back to the dwarf lord.

“M’Lord Lannister,” he said and rubbed his hands together. “How may I serve you?”

The dwarf recoiled from the man, a twisted smile showing on his lips.

“I am here on the king’s behalf. He expects girls to keep himself and his retainers company tonight.”

“Then, you are at the right place!” her owner exclaimed and waved his hand at them. “I have a good dozen of girls to choose from. I even have one maid left.”

The dwarf eyed each of the girls with his strange eyes, asking their names and their age.

Ros, one of the prettier girls, was the first one to be chosen.

“Ros is a bit old,” the owner remarked. “But experienced.”

“That is exactly what the king wants” the dwarf explained. “But the maiden should join as well. Sometimes, the king is in the mood for maidens as well. Better to be prepared.”

Maara, the red-haired girl, frowned at the dwarf, but accepted her fate without complaint.

At last, the dwarf lord came to appraise Dany.

“What is your name, beauty?” he asked her. She could see the lust in his eyes, but he made no attempt to touch her. In fact, he hadn’t touched any of the girls so far, though other customers certainly enjoyed doing so during the choosing.

“Her name is Naerys,” her owner was quick to answer for her. “She is barely touched. And look at this skin and the silver hair. A rare sight in the North for sure.”

“But not in King’s Landing,” the dwarf lord replied and recoiled from the man again, his eyes still resting on Dany. “The brothels there are filled with Lysean girls. Well, this one is of a much finer breeding, but the king rarely has a taste for silver-haired beauties. They remind him of the Targaryens.”

“How did you get here, girl?” the dwarf asked her again after a moment of silence had passed between them. “Do you even speak our tongue?”

“I speak several tongues, my lord,” Dany replied and forced a smile over her lips. “But you are right. I hail from Volantis and while the king might not have need of a bedwarmer, I have other abilities. I can recite poetry and play the high harp.”

Surprisingly, the dwarf started to laugh.

His cheeks were deeply flushed by the time he had stopped.

“You are funny, but that is no fault if yours, girl,” he said and smiled at her. “The king holds even less love for the harp…and poetry. I do not think the king even knows what that is. Well, not that it matters. You are the prettiest here. You will come too.”

With these words, he had left her and the other girls.

Their owner didn’t even allow them to break their fast. Instead they were ordered to wash and change into finer gowns than usual. Hers was blue and made of a soft material she could not identify, but it afforded little protection against the cold outside.

Kyra, one of the other girls who had to stay behind, helped her with her hair and pulled it up into smaller braids. At last, they put on colourful sashes around their waists to show their belonging.

The thought alone was enough to make Dany’s skin crawl, but sticking her head in the sand, or better said the snow, was no way she would get away from this place.

This Winterfell might be her best chance to get away. At times, she wanted to kick herself for not listening Jon Snow.

 _I should have told him to go to his father_ , Dany thought, as she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders to ward off the wind, as they drove along the ice-crusted road towards Winterfell.

So far, Dany had only seen the castle from the distance, but today it was clearly visible in the bright moonlight.

It was a beautiful sight, like from a fairy tale, but that was not why Dany felt happy to go there.

She also hoped to see this Jon Snow again. He seemed of the honourable sort and perhaps he would be willing to help her if she told him that she had changed her mind.

The other girls would hate her for sure, but it was the only way.

…


	4. Jon

**Jon**

Jon watched, as one of the squires poured down another cup of wine and another gorged on roasted chicken. The taste of summerwine lay heavy in his mouth, but it wasn’t enough to banish away his worry about the future.

As he looked around once more, he found the Great Hall of Winterfell bustling with activity, the minstrel’s song barely reaching his ear, here at the end of the all.

It was long past the eight hour of this feast, celebrated to welcome King Robert’s visit. As expected, Jon’s siblings were seated with the royal children, beneath the raised platform where Lord Stark and Lady Stark were entertaining the Queen and King.

Jon had been curious to see the King, but Robert Baratheon had turned out to be another disappointment.

The Queen had been much more interesting.

Cersei Lannister was as beautiful as everyone said, all golden-haired and graced with eyes of jade. Yet, Jon had taken notice of her false smile, as his father had led her to the high table.

As expected, Lady Stark had walked at the King’s arm, an almost comically sight. There had been nothing imposing about the King’s girth and his red face.

And Lady Stark’s smile had been just as forced.

Then, his siblings and the royal children had entered the hall, one after another. Rickon had to walk alone and had found his way to Jon along the way, who had quickly sent his brother back where he belonged. Not long after, Robb had followed with Princess Myrcella, a sweet girl with golden hair and green eyes like her mother.

Robb had been smiling the entire time, but Sansa had been much worse.

Even here, in the back rows Jon had been able to hear her heavy sigh, as she had clung to Joffrey’s arm, a boy that looked more like his mother than the King.

At last, Arya had followed arm in arm with Prince Tommen, a chubby boy with blond hair that could barely keep up with Arya’s pace, who had looked, as if she was desperate to get to her seat.

Only Bran had been left in peace and had waved his hand at Jon from the distance.

Jon had returned the gesture before asking for another cup. The wine was sweeter than ever, but even so Jon felt not at peace when his gaze wandered back to the squires.

Most of them knew what they would do with their life, but Jon’s future was still uncertain.

Ever since, he had understood what it meant to be a bastard, he had believed that the only path for him was to join the Night’s Watch, but the girl’s words had filled him with doubt.

Had the girl been right? Could there be another path for him? Jon couldn’t say, but he was sure that he would have soon to face his future, as he had heard through the grapevine that the King had not only offered to make his father his Hand, but had also offered to betroth his sister Sansa to Prince Joffrey.

In short, Jon’s time in Winterfell was rather limited…

“Look, the Imp and the Kingslayer, Snow,” one of the younger squire’s remarked and caused Jon to lift his head. “The beauty and the beast.”

It was true. The Imp was as ugly as Ser Jaime was beautiful, but Jon’s attention was soon directed elsewhere, when he felt someone move beneath the table.

It was Ghost, who was demanding more food and whining pitifully.

Jon smiled at the pup and handed him a piece of chicken. The wolf pup quickly pulled apart the meat, enjoying his supper.

Jon was glad that he had been allowed to keep him close. At times, it felt as if they were connected through an invisible bond.

“You want another?” Jon asked Ghost when the wolf put started to lick his hand. “You had already two.”

Ghost gave a whine and Jon sighed.

“Fine…have another.”

Ghost was quick to feast upon the piece of meat and Jon smiled when he noticed a familiar face in the crowd.

“Uncle Benjen!”

Jon pulled himself to his feet and embraced the taller man.

“My, you have grown,” his Uncle Benjen replied and patted his shoulders, his grey-blue eyes darting to Ghost who was watching them from beneath the table. “And this must be the famous direwolf?”

“This is Ghost,” Jon introduced and touched Ghost’s head. “And he is pleased to meet you, Uncle.”

“And I am pleased to meet him,” his Uncle replied and chased away the squires. He straddled the wooden bench and picked up the half-empty cup in front of Jon. “As I am pleased to see you, my boy. It has been too long.”

Jon’s heart warmed when he heard this.

“It has been too long, but you have your duties, Uncle. It is understandable.”

Benjen returned his smile and picked up his cup to take a sip.

“Summerwine?” he asked. His smile was soft and relaxed. “Nothing is sweeter. How many cups did you have tonight?”

Jon grinned.

“Far too many.”

Benjen chuckled.

“Well, you are old enough to get drunk,” his Uncle said and picked up a piece of chicken from the nearby plate. He took a bite and another before he pointed at the wolf.

“This one will be a mighty beast one day, but he is so quiet.”

“He never makes a sound,” Jon agreed. “That is why I called him Ghost.”

“A fitting name,” Benjen agreed and looked around, back at the high table. “Am I wrong, but are you not usually eating with your siblings?”

“Most times,” Jon replied and clenched his teeth. “But Lady Stark thought my presence might insult the royal family.”

His Uncle remained silent for a moment before he turned back to regard Jon more closely.

“You must forgive my brother. He loves his wife dearly.”

Jon was taken back by his Uncle’s answer.

“I am not angry with father,” he replied. “Besides, it is much better here. I can drink as much as I want, and I can keep my wolf. I also don’t have to pretend that I give a flying fuck about the royal family.”

Benjen watched him closely, as he took another sip from his cup.

“You sound bitter,” his Uncle said. “Did something happen?”

“No…aye,” Jon replied quickly and leaned closer towards his Uncle Benjen. He didn’t want the squires to overhear them, but then they were already occupied with a drinking competition. Better to be safe than sorry. “Well, I wanted to ask you a question.”

His Uncle nodded his head.

“Ask away.”

Jon swallowed hard before he spoke again.

“Why did you join the Night’s Watch?”

Benjen’s eyes widened in surprise and an unreadable expression washed over his long face.

“I had my reasons,” he replied sadly. “Very personal reasons.”

Jon was surprised to hear this. “I always thought it was because you were the third son with nothing to inherit.”

Benjen paled and leaned closer, as she shook his head.

“That was not the reason. There were very few Starks left after the Rebellion. Ned would have been glad if I had stayed.”

Jon felt disappointed by that answer, but knew he had to accept it.

“Is there a specific reason you are asking?” Benjen asked. “I remember that you intended to join as well. Has that changed?”

Jon frowned.

“I am not sure, but I just wondered why you left your home when you had no reason to do so. And I am beginning to think that there is more to this world than the Wall. To speak the truth, I think I shall leave soon. I am old enough.”

His Uncle paled a little when he heard this, but when he patted Jon’s shoulder he sensed that he was genuine.

“You are old enough to make your own decisions,” Benjen agreed. “Do you have any plans?”

Jon nodded his head. “I was thinking of going south, to become a squire. I am a bastard, but I am good with the sword. Some lord might accept me if I prove myself worthy. A little help from father would be even better, but I am hesitant to ask him with all these new responsibilities looming ahead…,” he trailed off.

Benjen’s grip had tightened on his shoulders when these words had left his mouth.

“I shall speak to him on your behalf,” Benjen replied to Jon’s utter surprise. “If you wish.”

Jon opened his mouth, but in that moment someone’s presence caught his attention.

It was the girl, the one from Wintertown, who was smiling down at him, a flagon of wine in one hand and a cup in the other.

She looked nervous, as she eyed Jon.

“I wondered if you care for a cup of wine, my lords,” she replied in this heavy foreign accent and smiled first at Jon and then at Benjen. “One of you lacks a cup.”

Benjen laughed. “That would be my nephew. Give it here, girl.”

The girl filled the cup.

Then, she leaned down and touched Jon’s arm with her free hand.

“I wondered if we might speak…,” she began, but Jon pushed her hand away. It was more instinct than cruelty, but the yellow sash around her waist marked her as a whore. He didn’t want his Uncle to know about his nameday gift.

“Thank you for the wine,” he replied and clenched his teeth. “But I am not interested.”

Jon hadn’t even looked at her, as he had said this.

“The girl is pretty,” Benjen said and leaned closer. ”Despite her belonging. Truly, I have never seen a whore with prettier teeth.”

 _She is no whore_ , Jon wanted to reply, but something held him back.

“What does it matter.”

Benjen chuckled and jerked his head at the squires. One was already lying beneath the table and another was emptying his stomach on the ground.

“You are grown, but I have never seen you with a girl. Why did you spurn her attentions? I am a man of the Night’s Watch, but like most of my brothers I go to the whores to satisfy my needs. There is no shame in that.”

Jon’s cheeks burned, as he rose to his feet.

Was his Uncle really that blind to his lot?

“I will never father a bastard,” Jon replied hotly and felt suddenly very dizzy. “And I have no need for the company of whores.”

The guilt came moments later when he stumbled out of the Great Hall, Ghost close at his heels.

Outside, he found the yard deserted and silent. Up at the ramparts he saw a guardsman making his rounds and behind him he heard the laughter of drunken men and women alike.

The cold was biting, but the guilt was even more biting. For a moment, he thought of going back inside to speak to the girl, but it was far too dangerous.

What would Lady Stark say if she saw him with one of these girls?

No, it was far too dangerous.

Jon had shamed his father enough when he had agreed to Robb’s gift **.**

Slowly, Jon stumbled along the wall, fresh snowflakes melting on his face and the sound of cracking ice ringing in his ears.

He felt the effect of the wine in every step.

Ghost whined when Jon stopped and pressed his head against the wall.

“I am well, boy.”

“Doesn’t look like it to me,” a stranger’s voice disturbed the silence. Jon turned around and was surprised to find the Queen’s brother, Lord Tyrion Lannister, watching him with interest. “You look as if you are about to vomit your guts out, my boy.”

“I am certainly drunk,” Jon replied. “But I am not going to vomit. Wait and see, my lord.”

The dwarf grinned and crept closer.

“You are the bastard, aren’t you?” the dwarf asked.

Jon winced and tried to keep his composure.

“Lord Stark is my father,” he replied, lacking a better answer.

“And Lady Stark is not your mother…which makes you the bastard,” the dwarf quipped.

“Aye, Lady Stark is not my mother,” he answered through gritted teeth. Ghost seemed to sense his discomfort and growled at the dwarf.

“Ah, one of the famous direwolves!” the dwarf exclaimed happily and rubbed his hands together. “May I touch him?”

“You may,” Jon confirmed politely and waved his hand at Ghost, who was looming at the corner, his gaze searching for something in the darkness. ”But be careful. The teeth of a wolf can be sharp.”

“As are the teeth of a lion,” the dwarf countered quickly. ”Though I am only a very small lion.”

“You are small…nobody can deny that, my lord,” Jon agreed sarcastically.

“And you are the bastard…nobody can deny that truth either, my boy,” the dwarf added with a wry smile. ”You do have your father’s colouring…more so than your half-siblings. I doubt Lady Stark likes that.”

Jon froze in embarrassment, his cheeks burning like a hot brazier against the cold.

“I do not wish to speak about Lady Stark,” Jon replied. “And I do not wish to speak with you about this topic either.”

“Why not?” the dwarf asked mockingly. “Am I too lowly of a company for you, bastard?”

Jon frowned.

“You are a high lord,” he pointed out. “I would say it is the other way around. I am also exhausted and my head hurts.”

The dwarf nodded his head in acknowledgment. “Then, let me give you one last advice…,” he began, but Jon was overwhelmed by the sudden need to vomit.

“Excuse me,” he replied and left the dwarf standing there.

He had barely made it around the corner before his supper left his stomach.

When he was done emptying his supper into the snow, Jon noticed that the world him had turned silent again.

Only Ghost was wagging his tail, as he watched he movement of shadows in the distance.

Soon enough, other voices disturbed the silence.

“Don’t be so hesitant…I shan’t hurt you,” a drunken voice reached Jon’s ears. “Stop squirming.”

Then, Jon heard the cry of protest from the girl’s lips.

“I am not…I think you misunderstand!” the girl shrieked. It was the girl from Wintertown.

Jon didn’t hesitate to hurl himself at the man, who was at least half a head taller than him.

Ghost’s presence helped as well.

His wolf didn’t hesitate to bury his sharp teeth in the man’s leg, making him scream.

Jon had used the moment to pull the man to the ground and was now struggling against the man.

Ghost was ready to join the fight once more, but Jon didn’t want his wolf to kill the man.

“Ghost! No!” he shouted at the wolf, but was silenced by a painful hit to his face. “No!”

A moment later, Jon found himself on his back, his nose bleeding.

But Ghost hurled himself at the man once more, his teeth seeking the man’s armoured shoulder.

It gave Jon enough time to push the man away and deal him a punch to the face.

Within the blink of a moment, the man fell backwards and landed on his arse.

Ghost was about to attack again when Jon grabbed the wolf’s neck to stop him.

“Ghost!” Jon shouted and pulled on his neck. “Come back. This man is not our enemy.”

Finally, Ghost stopped, and Jon eyed the man’s bleeding leg. It was as half as bad as it looked, but it was surely painful.

“I shall have your head for this, boy!” the man snarled at Jon. By the colors of his garb, he was one of the King’s retainers, a knight perhaps, though Jon couldn’t identify the sigil on his crest in the darkness. “I am one of the King’s men and that beast of yours wanted to kill me!”

“He had a good reason,” Jon replied and knelt beside the girl after Ghost had finally let go of the man. Her face was incredibly pale and her lips bluish. She was shivering from head to toe. Jon felt even more awful now that he had shunned her so. “The girl did not appreciate your attentions, did she? And I am no boy, but Jon Snow. Lord Eddard’s son.”

“She is a whore, bastard!” the man shouted and spat at the ground, right in front of Jon’s feet. By now he had managed to straighten himself and was leaning against the wall, as he was reaching for the girl. “That is what they are good for. Tell your father that he ought to…,” he had continued, but Jon had intercepted his way, placing himself in front of the girl.

“You will leave her be, good Ser. Whore or not, no one is going to be raped in my father’s castle. Get yourself another tavern wench. There are plenty of them at the feast.”

The man laughed.

“Ah, I see now. You are just jealous…,” he began, but was silenced a moment later, when Jon’s fist collided with the man’s face.

This time, the man kissed the ground and moved no more.

It was then, that a handful of men came rushing around the corner. They were led by Jory.

“Jon?” he asked and looked first at Jon, then at the girl and at last at the unconscious man. The dwarf was following close at their heels. “What is the meaning of this?”

…


	5. Ned

**Ned**

The girl beside Jon looked thin and exhausted, but she was also the prettiest whore Ned had ever laid eyes on. Her soft silver hair and her deep violet eyes reminded him of another woman, a woman that had fallen for his brother Brandon. Lady Ashara Dayne.

Yet, Lady Ashara Dayne was dead and gone, even though she and that girl shared the same eye colour. This girl was also a maiden whore or a slave. At least that is what Jon had told him.

Ned believed the boy, but he also wanted to hear the full story from the girl’s lips. That is why he had asked Jory to bring her here now that the king was occupied chasing a bear through the Wolfswood. Robert had asked him to join him, but Ned had refused, claiming that he had business to attend to. He had also made mention of the incident last night and had asked him to bring his bastard to him, though he had said so in good humour. It had sounded to him, as if Robert was simply curious to see Jon, his bastard.

Ned was terrified by that prospect, but he could scarcely refuse when Robert was making such a request.

“Forgive me,” Ned said and looked at the girl. “What is your name again? Jon told me, but I forgot.”

“Naerys,” the girl replied. She had a heavy foreign accent, but it seemed her command of the Common Tongue was very accomplished. “My name is Naerys.”

“A Targaryen name?” he asked in surprise.

“It is not uncommon in Essos, my lord,” the girl explained. “Because it is not just a Targaryen name. Many a man or woman in Essos derives his or her name from High Valyrian, though I was told by my mistress that I must have been born into a noble family with Valyrian roots.”

Ned nodded his head and was glad that Robert was not here. The very mention of the Targaryens never failed to make his blood boil, though he doubted the girl had any connection to them. Even in the south, one could find whores from Lys sporting silver hair and purple eyes. Robert had bedded plenty of them when he was just a boy and would have probably continued to do so if the Rebellion hadn’t occurred. 

Lyanna had been right in that regard. Robert might have loved her dearly, but he would have never kept to her bed. Cersei Lannister was far more beautiful than his sister and she had born Robert three healthy children and yet he had paid her not more attention to the tavern wenches serving him fresh ale.

“You certainly have Valyrian roots,” Ned agreed and cleared his throat. “But what interests me more is how you came here to the North. You hail from Braavos?”

“No,” the girl replied. “I lived in Braavos when I was a small girl. Then, my family perished, and I was captured and sold to my mistress in Volantis. She was the owner of a pillow house and specialized in training courtesans for the nobles of the city. She invested much coin in seeing me educated and eventually found me a fine match with the Young Tiger, the Triarch’s son, but things didn’t turn out as she had hoped.”

Ned nodded his head in encouragement. “How so?”

“The Young Tiger already had a concubine. Her name was Lady Lynesse and she was overwhelmed by her jealousy. Well, she convinced one of the overseers to drug and sell me to a man. His name was Ser Jorah and he sold me to a man from the North who then sold me to this man that owns this brothel in Wintertown.”

Ned was unable to believe his ears. Lady Lynesse and Ser Jorah were familiar names to him. Jorah Mormont was a slaver and Lady Lynesse his wife. He had met her only once, but he recalled her as a very beautiful woman but also unsuited for the harsh life in the North.

“Are you sure the man was called Jorah?” Ned asked. “Can you give a description?”

The girl nodded her head and closed her eyes for a moment, as if she was trying to recall the man’s description. Then she answered.

“He looked like a bear, all big and hairy. And he spoke like your kind, my lord.”

“It is certainly possible, Lord Stark,” Ser Roderik added from his place beside Ned. He had listened to the entire exchange with a grim façade, his grey whiskers moving with the turn of his head. Ned knew why. Ser Roderik had failed to bring Ser Jorah to justice and hearing the girl’s tale must have reminded him of it. “Ser Jorah is a cunning man and its seems his wife has also found herself a more suitable position.”

“You are quite right,” Ned agreed and looked over to Jon. His face was longer than usual and his hair in slight disarray, as if he had just crawled out of bed. There were dark rings beneath his eyes. Ned was sure the boy had troubled himself over what had happened. “Ser Jorah never lacked cunning. And since he is hiding in Essos, I cannot do much about it.”

“True,” Ser Roderik agreed. “But we can arrest the filth in Wintertown. Just give the order and I shall drag this man before your feet.”

Ned could hear the eagerness in Ser Roderik’s voice and shared his feelings on that matter. Slavery was not something he would tolerate, no matter how much his men would whine about the lack of whores available.

“I shall gladly give my agreement,” Ned replied and smiled at his old steward. “Bring that filth here.”

“But what of the girls?” the girl asked suddenly.

Ned was surprised by her question.

“What do you mean?”

“They are going to end up on the street if you close down the brothel,” the girl pointed out.

Ned hadn’t even considered that, but it was true.

“You don’t have to fret about them, my girl,” Ned assured her and smiled. “I am sure this slaver has still some of that coin my son and the lords and knights in my houshold left him. We shall hand some of it to the girls and they may do with it as they please. I am sure they can find themselves another livelihood.”

The girl fell silent and bit her lips before she started to speak again. She looked afraid, as her violet eyes searched Ned’s face.

“I do not know anything about these lands. I would prefer to stay here until I have decided what I want to do.”

“You may stay temporarily,” Ned assured her quickly. “But I cannot have you here in the castle.”

He looked over to Ser Roderik. “Your Beth has need of a helping hand, doesn’t she?”

Ser Roderik nodded his head in confirmation, but he could see that his steward wasn’t very pleased with the idea.

“Beth has always need of a helping hand,” Ser Roderik said at last. “I shall keep the girl if you wish, my lord.”

Ned was relieved to hear that. It gave him more time to think.

“I thank you, good Ser.”

“I thank you too,” the girl replied politely and smiled at Ser Roderik. “And I shall make myself useful if I can.”

With these words the girl had left in company of Ser Roderik. Jon had remained, lingering at the door, his expression indifferent and hard to read. He was always silent, hiding in the shadows, but perhaps that was only the result of the way he had grown up. A bastard shouldn’t be seen or heard.

“What is on your mind, Jon?”

“Nothing, father. I just wondered if the king said something about the incident last night.”

Ned was surprised the boy brought the topic up himself.

“He did mention it,” Ned replied and grimaced. “And he wishes to speak to you once he returns from his hunt.”

The boy paled more and backed away.

“Was he displeased?”

“No, the king was not displeased. He found the incident quite amusing and he simply wishes to speak to you. Still, I do think you should apologize. The man acted wrongly, but he was still the king’s man.”

Jon exhaled deeply and a hint of a smile crossed over his pale lips.

“I shall attend to the king when he returns,” he promised Ned and left.

Ned had remained in his study to wait for Benjen. He had asked Vayon Pool to call upon him after Jon had left.

“Ned,” his brother said when he entered. He was dressed all in black and his hair was wet from the snow. He smiled, as he knelt in front of the hearth and rubbed his hands together. “Why did you call me here?”

“It is about the boy…Jon,” he explained and searched his brother’s face. “I had hoped you could speak with him about the Night’s Watch.”

Benjen’s smile faded at once and his dark brows rose to the top of his head.

“The boy does no longer wish to join,” his brother replied without hesitation. “He told me so himself. It seems he wishes to be a knight. In fact, I offered to speak with you for him.”

Ned was taken back by this revelation. Things had just become more far more complicated than he had expected.

“The boy cannot go south to become a knight,” Ned replied. “You know why.”

“I know,” Benjen said and rose to his feet. He stepped towards the door and locked it before shifting his attention back to Ned. His voice was slow and soft, as he continued to speak. “But it is high time to tell the boy the truth. You cannot allow him to run about without understanding the danger he could find himself in. And I never said you should take him south. Keep him here in Winterfell and have Ser Roderik take him as a squire or foster him with Manderly. There are plenty of options for the boy to pursue beyond the Night’s Watch. Lyanna would agree with me if she was here.”

“Lyanna burdened us both with her foolish actions,” Ned replied in a sad tone. “And neither you nor I can say what would happen if we told the boy the truth.”

“Jon is a sensible boy,” Benjen said. “He will be angry and hurt, but he will understand. He loves his family far too much to endanger them. Have a little trust in the boy, Ned.”

“It is not Jon I mistrust,” Ned defended himself. “But I must think about this properly before I can make a decision.”

Benjen’s lips changed to a twisted smile. “That was always your problem, Ned. You think too much, and it makes you appear hesitant and weak. Stop trying to please others, especially the king. He is not the man he once was. That is clear to see. I know I have no right tell you what to do, but hear me out: Refuse him and stay here in the North. The south is no place for us Starks.”

Ned wished it was so easy, but if the letter Cat’s sister had sent them held any truth in it, the Lannisters had murdered Jon Arryn.

And it was also not so easy to refuse Robert Baratheon, a man with whom he had only reconciled because of Lyanna’s death. To displease him was just as dangerous.

“Perhaps, but it is the only way.”

“The only way to do what?” Benjen asked. “To involve yourself in matters that do not concern you. Don’t you see, Ned? By allying yourself with Robert you are endangering Jon even more. The man would murder the boy in an instant. You said that yourself.”

“He is my king,” Ned replied in irritation. It was so easy for Benjen to speak like this. He could always hide away at the Wall. “And you have no family and wife to please. You chose your path when you joined the Night’s Watch.”

Anger danced in his brother’s grey-blue eyes.

“You know my reasons, Ned,” Benjen replied through gritted teeth and leaned on the table. “And stop acting as if you are the only person who suffered. Lyanna lost her life and your king eradicated the entire Targaryen family, most of them innocents who never did any harm to him. And what did he do with his power? Grow fat and lazy. I hardly knew Rhaegar Targaryen, but he would have never fallen that _low_. In the end, Lyanna did choose the _better_ man and _died_ for it, as did _many_ others.”

…


	6. Jon

**Jon**

Jon found himself walking through the crypts. The Kings of Winter watched him through the darkness, their faces cold and made from dead grey stone. Some had direwolves seated beneath their feet and others held rusty blades that are now weak and brittle like old bones.

Yet it were not the dead eyes of these lords and kings that made him feel uncomfortable. No, it was the cold that made him shiver from head to toe. At times, he pained him to breathe and misty smoke continued to rise from his mouth, as he passed one statue after another.

He called out to Ghost, but his wolf was nowhere to be found. It felt as if everyone he had ever known had deserted him. Despite his fear he continued to descend deeper into the darkness. His heart was racing wildly and his face was covered with frozen sweat.

His torch flickered as a current of icy wind washed over him.

“Dragon! Dragon! Dragon!” the croaking of the crows rang in his ears, a whole flock of them soaring over his head, the world being blurred by a whirl of black feathers. “King! King! King!”

Jon recoiled from the darkness that was reaching for him, trying to embrace him..

Suddenly, he could no longer speak. It felt as if someone had bound a noose around his neck and was trying to press all air out of his body.

And just as it became unbearable, he woke in a rush of fear.

It was still dark as he looked around his chamber, but the touch of Ghost’s soft nose on his cheek made him aware that he was still here in Winterfell and lost in the crypts.

“I am well, boy,” Jon assured the wolf and touched soft fur. Ghost gave a soft, wagging is tail in an almost cheerful manner. Probably because he was hoping for a proper meal.

“Thank you, for waking me.”

Jon pulled himself out of bed and dressed quickly. First he pulled on his breeches and then his tunic. He also splashed cold water on his face before he gave his hair a quick brush.

His dreams were not the only reason of concern these days. Only a day ago, while the king’s party had been riding out to chase a stag, his brother Bran had fallen. Jory and the other guardsmen had found him lying in the dirt, Summer’s sorrowful howl filling the air.

Jon had joined them not long after and Robb had carried Bran inside, allowing Luwin to do his work. Ever since, Jon had not seen a single glimpse of his brother. Lady Stark was constantly guarding the door, as if she thought someone might try to kill Bran.

Jon blamed himself for wallowing in his self-pity. Instead he should have watched over his brother.

Bran was ten namedays old and had been sorely disappointed when his father had allowed Robb and Theon to accompany the king on his hunt, but not him. It had been Lady Stark’s doing, for she had heard of the king’s liking for wild hunts and had feared Bran might get hurt.

Angry, his brother must have defied his mother’s rules and had probably climbed the walls. Now he was hovering between death and life and Jon didn’t know what to do with himself.

Therefore, the king had also not called upon him the day before. Instead he had for Jon’s presence in the morning, a meeting that scared Jon shitless.

Not wishing to appear impolite, Jon had put on his finer cloak. He also left Ghost locked up in his chambers. He wasn’t sure if the King appreciated the presence of direwolves.

When he entered his father’s solar, he found the king seated in a heavy armchair. His heavy girth was barely contained by the leather belt around his waist. Jon knew only one man alive that was fatter than the king: Lord Manderly, the Lord of White Harbour.

Like the Lord of White Harbour, the King didn’t seem at all embarrassed.

He seemed very cheerful, despite the misfortune that had befallen his brother.

Or perhaps he was simply drunk. His cheeks were slightly flushed and he smelled of ale.

“Is that the boy?” the king asked, his small blue eyes eying Jon across the room with a curious expression. “Come closer. Let me take a proper look at you.”

Jon smiled and stepped closer. It was no honest smile. He felt no happiness to see this man nor did he particularly care to speak to him.

“Your Grace,” he said and dipped his head before looked over to his father. The expression on his was even more guarded than usual. His brown hair was also in disarray and his chin sported fresh stubble. He must have forgotten to shave himself, Jon realized, but was not surprised. He must have stayed up all night with Lady Stark. “I am indeed Jon Snow.”

An amused smile curled on the king’s lips. He had also slapped his thighs, as if he had just discovered something very surprising.

Then, he looked back at Jon’s father.

“You never told me how much the boy resembles you!”

Jon swallowed hard when he noticed his father’s tense expression.

“He is my blood,” his father replied tightly. “It shouldn’t be surprising that he looks like me.”

“Of course not!” the king exclaimed loudly and looked back at Jon. “But considering that all your other pups look like Cat, I am not surprised you are hiding him. Must be quite the pain in the ass for her.”

Then, the king waved his hand at Jon again. It made him feel like some dog.

_Is that how Ghost feels like when I am chasing him around?_

“Now, my boy. Tell me, why did you give Ser Hugh a bloody nose?”

Jon exhaled deeply and met the king’s gaze. “He tried to rape a girl. I saw it all, your grace.”

“I was told she is a pretty whore,” the king said and grinned. “Well, you won’t have to fear anything from me, Jon. I fought many a man for a whore’s pretty cunt and Ser Hugh has no reason to complain when he could not even win against a green boy like you. If anything, he should feel ashamed of himself. Truth be told, I was just curious to meet you. Ned hid you well from me all these years, though I do not understand why. I have a good number of bastards of my own and hold no dislike for them. Some of them are even more dear to me than my trueborn children.

Jon didn’t know what to answer. Was it the ale that made the king sprout such nonsense or was it just his resemblance to his father? Well, the king’s words had certainly lessened Jon’s dislike for him, but it didn’t make the situation any less uncomfortable.

He also didn’t like that the king had called the girl a whore. She was a slave, sold and bought. It wasn’t as if she had a choice in the matter. Still, Jon kept silent, for he didn’t want to rouse the king’s wrath.

“Truth be told, your grace, my father was not hiding me. I enjoyed being seated with the squires. They tell better stories.”

“You are an amusing bastard, Jon Snow,” the king answered and laughed. “How old are you again?”

“Ten and six, your grace,” Jon replied. “I am a man grown.”

“A man grown,” the king said and nodded his head. “And what will you do now that you are a man grown?”

“I don’t know yet,” Jon replied. “It is for my father to decide my future.”

The king nodded his head again. “You look like a swordsman to me…Am I right?”

“I am passable with the sword,” Jon replied. “At least, I like to think so.”

“You are young,” the king said. “And not even fully grown. Why not try yourself as knight?”

Jon’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he saw his father’s horrified expression.

“Robert,” his father said. “He follows the old gods. No one would knight him in the south.”

Jon knew then that his dream of becoming a knight was as fruitless as the soil in winter.

Suddenly, he only wanted to leave.

“I shall find my path, your Grace. Fear not.”

The rest of the evening he was hiding away in the smithy, watching Mikken work on Arya’s gift.

In truth, it was no proper sword. His little sister had slender hands that could not carry a blade fit for a knight.

More than once, Mikken had tried to make him leave, but Jon had remained stubborn. The conversation with the king was still weighing heavily on his mind and he felt as if all his dreams of becoming a knight been squashed at once.

And why should his father allow him to become a knight? The fact that he had not even told him his mother’s name was proof it.

 _She must have been a whore_ , he was sure now. _A lowly whore._

Not that it mattered anymore.

Jon knew that he could only move forward, but whether that would be the Night’s Watch or Essos he hadn’t decided yet.

“Jon,” Mikken’s grumbling voice roused him from his deep thoughts. “Your uncle Benjen is here.”

Jon lifted his head and looked over his shoulder to find his uncle Benjen smiling down at him. He appeared very tense and sad.

_He is here to tell me that the Night’s Watch is the only place for a bastard like me._

Jon felt a rush of anger surging through his whole body. He could not even speak

“There you are.” his uncle said and exhaled deeply. “I think we need to speak alone, Jon.”

…


	7. Benjen

“Why are you dragging me down here, uncle Benjen?” his nephew asked him, as they continued to climb down the steps of the crypts. Benjen was carrying his latern in front of him, painting shadows and patters against the walls.

It had been a long time ago, that he had last visited his father’s and brother’s graves, but now he was here, bringing Jon to the empty grave of his mother.

It felt almost surreal, but it needed to be done. Benjen had allowed Ned to do as he saw fit, but he couldn’t sit by and allow someone he loved to run into his doom. The boy knew nothing of the Night’s Watch and deserved a choice, even if it was a dangerous thing to do.

“Are you afraid?” he asked his nephew in a teasing manner. The boy frowned just like Lyanna had always done when she was not amused. “I wouldn’t have thought a boy…,” he began, but his nephew’s push on his shoulder stopped him.

“Let us go,” he said. Benjen did as he was asked, descending further down the steps, deeper into the cold and darkness that awaited him there.

It didn’t take long until they reached his father’s and brother’s graves. His father looked as he had in life, his stone face long and sombre. Brandon’s image was not as fitting, for he had been known for his smiles and good looks. There had not been a single girl he couldn’t charm into his bed, although Benjen supposed his status as heir of Winterfell had to do with it as well.

At times, he wondered how he would have ruled Winterfell…

How many bastards would you have imposed on Catelyn? Truly, she was lucky to have Ned, even if it meant that you had to die for it, brother.

Benjen averted his gaze from his brother’s grave and shifted his attention back to Jon.

He pointed at his sister’s grave. The statue didn’t do her any favours either. It showed a pretty maid in a flowing dress, but his sister had been so much more than that. She had been his friend and he had allowed her to run to her doom.

“Would you help me?”

Jon appeared confused, coming to stand beside him, as Benjen pushed the weight of his body against the heavy stone covering of the grave.

“What are you doing?” Jon asked in confusion, but Benjen continued to push.

“I am going to show you something. Now come here and help me.”

Jon exhaled deeply and helped him push. Not long after, the stone gave away and waves of dust came his way, making his nose tingle.

When leaned forward he was relieved to see that Ned hadn’t discarded Lyanna’s belongings.

Especially, the sight of the shield pleased him and made him think of happier days when he had been young and free of the horrors beyond the Wall.

“Look at this,” he said after he had brushed the dust from his shield. “It belonged to my sister. She liked pretending she was a knight.”

Jon smiled as he picked up the shield to take a closer look at it in the flickering light of the latern. The surface showed a laughing weirwood and was painted in white and red, though the paint had faded over the years.

“She wanted to be a knight?”

“Not only that. She was a very gifted rider and she knew how to handle the lance better than most recruits at the Wall. She also won jousts…three to be exact. It was her moment of shining glory.”

Jon had lifted his head, his grey eyes wide in shock.

“She took part in a joust? When?”

“The tourney of Harrenhall,” Benjen replied wistfully and leaned against the grave. “Lord Reed had been assaulted by three squires and Lyanna decided she had to defend the honour of her father’s bannerman.”

Jon’s mouth opened in disbelief. “And she won?”

“She won,” Benjen confirmed and picked up the shield again. “I made this shield for her. I also played the role of her squire. It was a marvellous day for the knight of the Laughing Tree.”

“Of course,” Jon said and smiled sadly, as his gaze darted back to the shield. “The knight of the Laughing Tree. Makes it even sadder what happened to her.”

“That was a lie,” Benjen replied quickly. To wait longer would have only made it harder. “My sister wasn’t raped nor was she taken by force.”

Jon was utterly silent. Benjen read confusion and disbelief in his face.

“I do not understand?” he asked and investigated the darkness of the grave by holding the latern over his head. There was nothing in there, but the letters, the cloak, and the faded harp of the dragon prince. “Where are her bones?”

“Not here,” Benjen replied again. “Ned and Lord Reed burned her body and she was put to rest where she wanted to be…with her husband.”

Jon looked up again and placed the latern back on the ground. His hand was trembling, and the light made his face appear long and sad.

“Who was her husband?”

“You know him,” Benjen replied. “Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. At least, that is what Ned told me.”

“She married him?” Jon asked and shook his head. “I do not understand. Wasn’t she betrothed?”

“Aye, she was,” Benjen replied. “But she never held much love for the match. Father wanted it not Lyanna.”

Jon’s lips twisted downwards. “So she married the Prince instead? How? Wasn’t he wed?”

“By the Seven,” Benjen replied. “But not by the Old Gods. There has never been such a case before, but it seemed the Prince considered her his second wife.”

Silence reigned again and Benjen allowed Jon to take in all this new information. He had known beforehand that it wouldn’t be easy.

“Why are you telling me this twisted tale?”

“You will understand soon enough,” Benjen replied and placed his hand on Jon’s shoulder. “But now let me explain the rest.”

Jon didn’t move and looked at him. “Then explain.”

“As I told you. Lyanna held no love for the match with Robert and after the tourney, after the crowning, she stayed in contact with him. The Prince sent her letters and I delivered every single one of them to her. _It isn’t that that bad_ , I told myself and Lyanna was my beloved sister. I would have died for her and she for me. Robert Baratheon, father’s grand plans and Ned. They didn’t matter when it came to Lyanna.”

Jon’ gaze softened in that moment. “I would have done the same for Arya.”

“I know,” Benjen said and tightened his grip on Jon’s shoulder. The hardest part was still before him. “But now let me tell you the rest. One day, not long before Brandon’s wedding Lyanna came to me. She told me that she would not be coming back. She made me swear that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”

Jon clenched his teeth. “I see.”

“You don’t see,” Benjen said. “You don’t see all of it.”

“I don’t understand,” Jon replied tensely. “Why you are telling me all of this?”

Benjen smiled sadly, as she stepped closer and cradled his nephew’s face between his hands. “Because she was your mother.”

Jon’s hands had clutched his in the matter of a heartbeat.

Benjen endured it, the pain and his nephew’s piercing gaze.

“ _Why_?” he said after a while. It was more like a sizzling sound than real words. “ _Why_ did Lord Stark lie?”

This time it was Benjen who held unto Jon’s shoulders, keeping him in place, in case he would try to run away.

“Ned wanted to protect you,” Benjen replied. “It was the only way. Robert Baratheon wanted all Targaryens dead!”

His nephew wanted to hear none of it. His face was a grimace of rage and disgust. His dark eyes burned like coals in a brazier.

Perhaps it had been a mistake after all…

“I understand that!” Jon roared. “But the fact that you are telling me all this means Lord Stark never intended to tell me! _Why_?”

“I suppose he was afraid,” Benjen replied. He didn’t know Ned’s true feelings, but that had always been his impression. “Afraid that you might take it the wrong way.”

“Afraid that I would tell someone,” Jon corrected him and tried to bush his hands away, but Benjen held unto his shoulder. He was surprised how strong the boy was. “Afraid that I could betray his secret? Isn’t that so?”

“Perhaps,” Benjen replied. It was no use to lie to him. “And you have every right to be upset, but now you know, and you can decide. I know…,” he was about to continue, but his nephew wanted to hear none of it.

With a hard push he had shrugged off Benjen’s tight grip on his shoulders and sent him crashing against the stone.

Benjen gasped in pain, but he held no grudge against the boy. He had expected anger.

“You know nothing!” Jon shouted. “I always thought I was at fault that Lord Stark wouldn’t tell me about my mother!”

Jon’s breathing was growing very laboured, as he drew closer, his fists clenched. “I thought my mother was some whore and that father was ashamed of me. Has he ever thought of my feelings? No, of course not. And now I think I know why.”

Then Jon fell silent again, his dark gaze dropping to the shield at his feet. It had fallen to the ground Benjen and Jon had quarrelled with each other.

Benjen nodded his head and pulled himself up, balancing himself against the grave.

“What do you think is the reason?” Benjen asked softly.

“Because he didn’t trust me,” Jon replied, his voice trembling. Benjen expected him to cry, but the boy bushed his hand over his face before any tears could roll down his cheeks. “That is why he didn’t tell me.”

Benjen understood the boy’s pain, but he also understood Ned’s reason.

Gently, he was about to touch Jon’s shoulder, but he pushed his hand away.

“You were a child,” Benjen replied. “You might…,” he was about to continue, but Jon cut him off angrily.

“Aye, I was a boy, but I would have never harmed my family!”

Benjen had grabbed his shoulder again, pointing at the grave.

“There is more…,” Benjen began, but Jon wanted to hear none of it and pulled his hand away.

“I can’t…,” he stuttered and left Benjen standing there in the darkness. “I need to leave.”

…


	8. Dany

**The Lost Girl**

Dany stepped through the darkness, the light of her torch the only source of light in this foreign place. Statues of stone stood lined up against the walls, watching her as she continued to move forward.

 _If I look back I am lost_ , she told herself. _If_ _I look back I am lost._

There was only darkness behind her, but what lay before her was just as uncertain. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest, as she continued to walk deeper into the crypts.

The steps seemed never-ending, but the cold was worse.

This place felt like a grave and the dead eyes of the statues scared her.

As she descended deeper into the crypts, their appearances changed as well. Their faces were no longer whole, but made of crumbling stone. Dany sped up her pace and clutched her torch as she reached the last step.

She lifted the torch, casting the vault in a golden light.

High pillars shouldered this part of the crypts. The vaults looked ancient, spiders and dust crawling everywhere she looked.

“Dragon!” a croaking voice rang in her ears and caused her to turn around. “Dragon! Dragon!”

Dany spotted a crow, seated atop a statue without a head. With black wings spread wide, the bird soared into the sky, right over Dany’s head.

Dany’s followed the crow and found another entrance, hidden behind a crumbling tomb.

“Dragon!” the crow croaked. “Dragon! Dragon!”

Dany didn’t know why, but she felt the urge to follow the crow.

Gathering her courage, she climbed over the collapsed tomb.

She stumbled down into the dark entrance and shuddered when she reached the bottom.

It felt as if she had jumped into cold water.

The darkness was even worse and she had also lost her torch along the way.

She had to balance herself against the wall to find her way through the darkness.

The light that met her gaze a moment later blinded her.

She felt dizzy and confused when she opened her eyes again.

“Why hide it here?” a girlish voice asked and caused Dany to turn around. It belonged to a young woman, who stood beside a young man, who had his back turned to her.

The girl was tall and her face long, framed by brown hair.

Her eyes were grey and wolfish.

“Because it is the best place to hide _them_ here,” replied the young man, whose face she could not make out from the distance. He held something in his hands, something covered in a silken cloth. Dany could not see what it was, but she was sure that it was important. “The traitors won’t be able to find the eggs here and once my mother has won her crown we shall come back and get them.”

The girl chuckled and move closer. The last thing Dany saw was their kiss.

It was the touch of cold air on her skin that woke her from her slumber. It was the common way to wake in the North, but the bright light that followed was even worse.

She was still rubbing her eyes, as she crawled out of the bed.

Lady Beth seemed unaffected by the cold, as she walked around only in her nightgown and stockings. Dany had to wrap her thick bedding around her shoulders to ward off the cold.

“Just a moment,” Lady Beth told Dany. “To chase away the smell of the smoke.”

“It is no bother,” Dany replied through gritted teeth. Her toes felt frozen and she dressed quickly in the corner of the room. She pulled off her nightgown and exchanged it for a thick wooldress. Then, she pulled on her stockings, shawl, gloves and her cloak.

By the time, Lady Beth had closed the shutters Dany was finished dressing and joined her downstairs at the cooking place.

Lady Beth was already instructing the maid for the day while Dany warmed herself over the cookfire.

The smell of broth filled her nostrils, but she knew she had work to do before she could eat.

First, she got fresh firewood and then she helped with the cleaning. It was not hard work, but Dany didn’t like the looks the maid was giving her every morning.

Lady Beth was better, but Dany had the feeling that she was only treating her kindly, because her father had told her to do so.

Dany tried to ignore it and focused on her work. Her stomach was empty and her feet felt still cold.

When they were done, she helped with the dishes and long after Ser Roderik came back from his morning walk. He always rose long before dawn and Lady Beth was very insistent that he would have a proper fast waiting for him in the morn.

What surprised her was that he didn’t come alone. With him was Jon Snow who looked even more uncomfortable than during the feast when she had attemped to speak to him.

Dany shuddered when she thought about that night, but quickly forced a smile over her lips to hide her discomfort.

People were watching her after all and she didn’t want to embarrass herself.

“My father wants to speak to you,” Jon told her. “It won’t take long.”

“You shouldn’t let Lord Stark waiting,” Ser Roderik added, though Dany hadn’t even touched her food. “You can eat when you come back.”

“I shall,” Dany replied and fastened the clasp of her cloak before following Jon Snow.

Silence reigned between them. Jon Snow was grim as ever, but Dany supposed that was part of his personality.

“We are not going to your father,” Dany pointed out. “Isn’t that so?”

Jon Snow stopped abruptly and turned around to look at her.

“I lied,” he said bluntly and rubbed his hand over the back of his head, as he looked around. “Because I do not think Ser Roderik would approve of us being seen together.”

Dany knew very well that Ser Roderik had nothing to do with all this, but she didn’t want to quarrel.

“I do not care for your reasons,” she replied. “What do you want?”

“I want to show you something,” he replied at last and pulled on her arm. “But we don’t have much time.”

“I have nothing better to do,” she lied. She had wanted to eat. “Show me.”

Jon Snow said nothing and simply led the way.

At last, they stopped at a large iron gate. Jon Snow opened the door with a key he had kept hidden in the pocket of his cloak.

The anteroom they entered was completely dark, but when Jon Snow lightened one of the lanterns Dany could see that they were at the top of stone steps leading deep into the earth.

“Where are these steps leading?” Dany asked him and wrapped her cloak tighter around her shoulders. She had not even made a step down the stairs, but she could already feel the cold on her skin.

“The crypts,” Jon explained and led the way. He didn’t seem afraid. “Come. We don’t have much time.”

Dany nodded her head and followed. She tried not to show her fear.

She had never been to a place like this.

The light of the latern certainly helped, but it was not enough to chase away the thick darkness that seemed to reach every place in this crypt. Only at times, did the golden light reach the statues that stood lined up against the high walls.

The smell not very pleasant either. It was the smell of death that filled her nostrils.

There were spiders and rats as well. Nothing that usually frightened Dany, but this place reminded her of her strange dream.

“It is here,” Jon Snow said at last and pulled her along. He lifted the latern and the golden light fell upon a statue that showed a beautiful lady. “I just need a moment.”

Dany watched in confusion, as Jon pushed his body against the stone covering. His face changed to a grimace of pain and soon enough the stone gave away.

Dust rose into the air and the light in the latern flickered softly as Dany lifted it so Jon Snow could see what he was doing.

“It is in here,” he told her and leaned forward, searching the grave. Dany didn’t dare to look. It wasn’t like she had never seen human remains, but it felt disrespectful. “Ah, here it is.”

Jon lifted his gaze once more and turned to look at her, his dark hair covered with dust.

“Here,” he said and showed her a handful of folded letters. “You said you learned High Valyrian. I hoped you might be able to translate these for me.”

Dany was surprised by his demand and stretched out her hand, but he recoiled from her touch.

He looked afraid.

“First, you must swear that you won’t tell anyone about this. In return, I shall do _something_ to help you.”

Dany was taken back by his mistrust. ”I shall keep your secret.”

He exhaled deeply and handed her the letters.

“Here.”

Dany took the first letter and unfolded it.

The writing on the letter spoke of good penmanship, but the use of the language was even better. It were only a handful of sentences, but the author was without question fluent in High Valyrian.

_“Greetings to you Grand-Uncle Aemon. I hope you are in good health and that I will soon find time to visit you at the Wall. While I enjoy our correspondence, the possibility to speaking face to face with you would be an even greater pleasure. Life is difficult in the capital and my father’s madness is taking a toll on us all. Yet, among this darkness is also light. Elia is expecting again, though the Maester never fails to remind me of the dangers. Please return this letter to me as and write me a lengthy reply. As always, I hope you will be watching the skies as diligently as myself. Sincerely yours, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”_

“Prince Rhaegar Targaryen,” she repeated the name. It sounded so familiar.

Jon Snow was shaking visibly.

“Are you well?” she asked but received no immediate answer.

Jon Snow exhaled deeply and pulled his cloak from his shoulder.

“Aye,” he said and nodded his head. ”Please continue.”

“Very well,” she replied and picked up the next letter. “I shall read.

_“Greetings to you Grand-Uncle. I hope this letter receives you in good health. The tourney of Harrenhall proved as wasteful as I had expected and my father’s presence there only helped to stir the cries for a rebellion. Tywin had offered his support before, but I cannot bring myself to trust him. Elia is as well as can be expected given the difficult birth of our son Aegon. He is a precious boy and healthy too, but something is not right. On the day, he was conceived I saw a bleeding star, but his birth went about like any other. Maybe I was wrong to think him the promised prince? I also made an interesting acquaintance…Lady Lyanna Stark…the daughter of the Lord of Winterfell. But why am I telling you this? You probably heard that I crowned her as my Queen of Love and Beauty. The girl from the North is brave and beautiful…I only wanted to honour her for her valiant deeds (of which I intend to tell you about in my next letter), but my wife misunderstood my intentions. Why I am writing this to you is beyond me, but it often feels like you are the only friendly spirit I can converse with in these dark times. As always, stay in good health, Grand-Uncle. Sincerely yours, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”_

“This Prince Rhaegar sounds unhappy,” Dany said and shifted her attention back to Jon Snow.

He was very silent, his gaze distant and sad.

“Aye,” he replied, but didn’t say more than that.

“Lady Lyanna Stark,” she said. ”Is she your father’s kin?”

“Aye, she _was_ my aunt,” Jon Snow replied through gritted teeth. ”But that was another lie. In truth she _was_ my mother.”

Dany finally understood why he was so distraught. His mother was dead.

“I am sorry,” she apologized and picked up the next later. “I shall read the next one.”

This letter was dated a year later.

_“Greetings to you Grand-Uncle. I hope my letter reaches you in good health. These lines were written in haste. The realm is breaking apart before my very eyes. You might have heard about my father’s vile deed…he murdered Rickard and Brandon Stark, though I have yet to discover why Brandon Stark believed I abducted my beloved Lyanna. The contrary is the case. I have wed her by the old gods and she is heavy with our child. I must keep her safe or the promised prince might never be born. Until then, take care of yourself and keep watching the skies. Sincerely yours, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”_

“My beloved Lyanna….my beloved Lyanna,” Jon Snow muttered to himself. ”He was such a _fool_ …that father of mine.”

Now she finally understood. This Rhaegar Targaryen was his _true_ father.

And Dany knew nothing about him.

All her knowledge about the Targaryen dynasty ended with King Jaehaerys II.

“It seems your father loved your mother,” she said.

“I know that now,” he replied angrily and started binding the letters back together. ”But he left his wife and children. He should have known _better_ …my grandfather and uncle died for their folly.”

When he was done he looked at her again.

“ _They_ are also the reason I must leave as soon as possible,” he explained and grimace. “I promised you _something_ in return: if you want I can take you back to Essos…wherever you want.”

Dany swallowed hard and unsure what she should answer.

She was just startled by his offer.

“Have you lost your voice?” he asked her rather impatiently.

“No,” she replied and was about to answer, but a swooshing sound caused her to lift her head. At first, she couldn’t make out what it was, but when she lifted the latern she noticed that it was a crow that had landed on Lyanna Stark’s head.

The bird watched them for a moment before he started to croak and flapped his wings.

“Dragon!” he croaked and soared into the air. “Dragon! Dragon!”

Dany felt as if she was back in her dream. It felt all so surreal, but her heart told her to follow.

And so she did.

With her latern in hand she followed the crow down the narrow corridor. She nearly stumbled and she had to slow down to move over a collapse grave. Bones cracked beneath her feet, as she climbed over the heap of dust and stone.

Jon Snow was close behind her and grabbed her arm before she could go further.

“Where are you going?” he asked angrily. “This is no place for little girls!”

“The crow wants to show us _something_ ,” she replied stubbornly and freed herself from his grasp. “Or are you afraid, Jon Snow?”

“I just don’t trust _crows_.”

Dany took this as a confirmation and lifted the latern.

The crow was now seated on the heap of stones and was watching them again.

“Dragon!” it croaked. “Dragon! Dragon!”

Dany followed again and was soon forced to climb over another heap of stone.

“Will it ever end?” Dany asked Jon Snow after a while. “How far does it go?”

“A bit further,” he said and pointed ahead. There is a collapsed vault at the bottom and then another. It ends there, for the other vaults have been sealed hundreds of years ago. As I said…it is no place for little girls.”

“I want to see,” she replied stubbornly and led the way. Her heart was beginning to race as she entered the familiar vault she had see in her dream. She recognised it by the collapsed wall and the broken statues without heads. A snarling direwolf blocked her way, but after she had climbed over him as well, she reached the place where she had seen the boy and the girl.

Exactly, there the crow landed as well.

“Dragon! Dragon! Dragon!”

“It is here,” Dany told Jon Snow and put the latern on the ground beside her. Then, she knelt and started to dig. “I can feel it.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Jon Snow asked her. “You will find only bones and dust.”

“How can you be so sure?” Dany said and pulled up a particularly big stone. Her fingernails were already broken and dust rose further and further into the air forming a cloud at the ceiling .”Have you ever searched this place?”

“My siblings and I often played here,” Jon Snow replied and brushed his hand over his brow. It was warmer her. Much warmer. “But we never found anything of worth. The _crow_ is fooling us.”

“I want to search a little further,” she replied and continued to dig. One stone after another followed. At last, even the sceptical Jon Snow started to help her.

“Dragon!” the crow croaked when she finally found something. It was wrapped in a faded red cloth. “Dragon! Dragon!”

“What is it?” Jon Snow asked and leaned closer. He was holding up the latern so they could make out what Dany had found. “Can you tell?”

Gritting her teeth she grabbed the crimson cloth and pulled.

Something gave away and she fell backwards, nearly tumbling down the heap of stones.

Her was back aching when she found back to herself.

“Are you well?” Jon Snow inquired, as she climbed up again.

His voice sounded very different. Softer and full of wonder.

“You were right…,” he said and showed her something.

It was a beautiful black stone, covered with swirling vines of crimson. “There was something here after all.”

Dany drew closer. “What is it?”

“An egg,” Jon said in awe and put it aside. “But there are more…”

He was right.

There were two more stones. One looked as if it was made of silver and covered with bluish veins and the last one was green like jade and flecked with golden dots.

“Three of them to be exact.”

…


	9. Jon

**Jon**

It was close to nightfall when Jon slipped out of the castle. He had taken his leave from Arya on the day before and had given her his last gift, a small blade fit for the hands of a little girl.

 _Sometimes, different roads lead to the same castle_ , he had told Arya upon their parting. It made him wonder how many roads from Essos lead back to Winterfell…

Yet, he knew it was the only way.

_I can’t stay. My presence here puts everyone in mortal danger._

Night had fallen when he arrived at Wintertown. There, not far from the marketplace he waited for his future travelling companion.

The waiting felt like an eternity, as he watched the coming and going of the townsfolk . Many faces were family, but he doubted they cared about him.

“There you are,” a breathless voice and a gentle touch on his shoulder caused him to turn around. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be here.”

Jon blinked once and twice, for he hadn’t recognized her at once. Her braided hair had been covered by the hood of her cloak and had made disappear among the townsfolk.

“We should hurry,” she added quickly and started fumbling with her muffler. “Lady Beth thinks I went for a walk.”

Jon nodded his head and pointed at his horse. He felt too anxious to speak.

“Have you ever ridden a horse?”

She shook her head, an embarrassed smile playing on her lips.

“But I would love to try,” she added quickly and moved closer. Her close presence made his cheeks burn, but perhaps that was only the bitter cold.

Besides, there was no time for these kinds of feelings.

“Then, let me show you,” Jon answered and showed her how to climb into the saddle while the girl observed him curiously.

“Your turn,” Jon prodded with a frozen smile. He held out his hand towards her. “Just put your feet into the stirrup and climb into the saddle. Don’t be afraid. I will catch if you fall.”

“I am not afraid,” she replied with a stubborn edge to her voice and put her feet into the stirrup. “It can’t be too difficult.”

With quick movement on her side she was seated where she belonged.

They didn’t speak chased through the woods. They also avoided the main roads and the weather was pleasant enough, safe for the occasional snowfall.

They rode through the night and at times Jon felt ready to slip out of his saddle. In such moments, he welcomed the icy wind that kept him from falling asleep.

It was dawn when they decided to rest. He led their horse deeper into the woods and tied it to a nearby tree.

Wrapped in their cloaks they tried to find some sleep, but the sunlight falling through the tree crowns made it hard.

Jon was also afraid of being discovered.

He doubted Lord Stark would send him to the Wall for taking the girl away, but people certainly ask question.

 _Lord Stark lied to me for sixteen years_ , he thought, fresh bitterness arising inside him _. I cannot trust him with this._

“Jon Snow,” the soft voice of his travelling companion snapped him out of his thoughts. ”Where are we going?”

“White Harbour,” he replied and met her gaze. “There will find a ship.”

Recognition showed on her face.

“I recall the name of this place,” the girl answered and lowered her hood. ”There is a harbour with ships. But where _exactly_ will we go?”

“Wherever you want once we are in Essos,” he replied and tried to sound confident. ”At this moment, any ship travelling to Essos would do…we have to leave as soon as possible.”

He saw fear in her eyes.

“As long as we don’t go to Volantis or the Slaver Cities, we should be fine.”

Her words confused him.

“I thought Volantis is such a beautiful city.”

“It is,” she confirmed and pulled down her shawl to reveal a tear-shaped tattoo on her right shoulder. ”Every slave has such a tattoo and for that reason everyone in Volantis would know that I am an escaped slave. Thus, returning to Volantis would be a death sentence for me. The best place to go would be Braavos.”

Jon swallowed hard.

“Jon,” the girl called out to him again. ”Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

“Aye,” he confirmed. ”I understand.”

The smell of salt and sea filled his nostrils as they made their way through White Harbour.

He was very impressed by this city. The houses were made of white stones, glimmering in the pale morning light like the polished surface of a sword.

All looked so orderly and even the streets were made of smooth stones like the rest of the buildings.

Along the harbour he spotted several docks filled with countless ships in all forms and sizes. The people working on the ships were even stranger to behold. Some had skin as dark as ink, some had pale hair like the girl in his arms and some had even pink hair.

Weary from the long travel they settled in a nearby tavern. A few coins and they even got a proper meal consisting of grilled fish and sea grass. The ale was bitter but the fish was good, though his travelling companion hadn’t touched any of it.

“Don’t fret,” he assured her and searched his belongings. He had stolen clothing from the servants, but he feared they might be too big for her slender form.

“Here,” he said and dropped the clothing in her lap. ”Put this on…it will disguise you well enough to ward off suspicious looks.”

“I thank you,” she replied and started to remove her cloak. Jon didn’t waste another moment and turned around, facing the wall.

The girl chuckled, obviously amused by his behaviour.

“I apologize,” she said. ”But you have seen me naked before and yet you act like this…”

“I did it to please my brother,” he explained plainly. ”He spent a lot of coin for my sake. It was not right to use you for my personal pleasure.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice both soft and sad. ”Is that why you avoided talking to me during the feast?”

Jon had not forgotten about his shameful behaviour, but so far his mind had been otherwise occupied.

The first thing that came to his mind was to lie, but that would be unfair towards the girl.

“The truth is…I thought my uncle might think ill of me if I spoke to you,” he explained. “Yet, there is another reason. I have always thought myself about such common pleasures and that I would never father a bastard.”

“Yet, in truth you are no bastard,” she told him. “And you helped me…I forgive you.”

Jon was startled by her answer.

“You can turn around,” she said at last.

Jon turned around and found her strange to behold in her clothing, but it was necessary. At least, until they reached the Free Cities.

“Good,” Jon found his voice at last. “Now rest. I will get food for Ghost. He hasn’t eaten since yesterday and he grows quite upset if he is hungry.”

Ghost lifted his head and yawned.

“I will do that,” she replied and sat down on the bed made of wool and hay. Ghost didn’t seem to mind her presence and rolled to the others side, before dozing off once more.

In truth, the food had been the last of his concerns. Half the evening he had spent asking around for a ship that was sailing for Braavos. Finally, after a good dozen of conversations he had found a galley named the Lady of the Sea.

The Captain was a Braavosi who enjoyed garbing himself in rich robes, but he had offered him a fair price. Jon had feared his wolf would scare the Captain away, but it seemed the promise of having such an exotic animal on his ship had pleased the man.

He tried to be as silent as possible as he entered, but his travelling companion was already awake, Ghost’s head resting in her lap.

The sight surprised him.

“It seems Ghost and you are getting acquainted,” he remarked.

“You were gone long,” she replied and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. ”I thought you got lost.”

“I found a ship,” he explained and rinsed his face in the bowl of water placed on the nearby table. ”The ship I found is called the Lady of the Sea. The Captain wants to leave today…we should hurry.”

She smiled in relief and dressed quickly.

“What about your horse?”

“I sold it…coin is more important,” he explained.

Men in all sizes and colours were loading goods on the ship while the Captain was puffing his pipe.

“There you are friend,” the Captain said, his small grey eyes darting back to his wolf. ”And your precious beast. You weren’t lying when you said that his fur is as white as snow.”

“I thank you,” Jon replied and feigned a smile. Then, pointed his travelling companion. ”This is my friend…he will travel with us.”

The Captain eyed her closely.

“Such a pretty boy,” he declared at last and frowned. “You are putting the fairest of maids to shame.”

Jon nodded his head and pulled her along towards the ship, the Captain’s rumbling laughter following him along the way.

_So much for my clever idea._

“Jon,” his travelling said later. ”I know it is a silly question…But why did you _really_ ask me to come with you? Did you think I would tell someone about your secret?”

“I know nothing of the Free Cities…I can’t even speak the language,” he explained and ruffled his hand through his hair. ”Once we arrive in Braavos you can leave…you are free to go wherever you want.”

The girl shook her head.

“I was five or six when I lived there. My brother and I lived in a small house with a red door and an elderly man was taking care of us. One day, men came and killed my brother and the old man. I don’t know how I made it out alive, but my captors supposedly found me roaming through the streets. Naerys…that is not even my real name. My brother used to call me Dany. I tried to explain it to my Mistress, but she found the name too plain for a courtesan.”

“Dany,” he repeated the name. It was such a simple e name, but it suited her. “Dany.”

“Then I will call you Dany,” he declared at last. ”You don’t have to carry the name these slavers gave you.”

She smiled warmly.

Jon averted his gaze.

“Jon is a rather plain name for the son of a Prince, but it suits you as well.”

Jon was surprised by his reaction. He found himself smiling when he thought he would never smile again.

“I _suppose_ you are right.”

…


	10. Ned

**Ned**

Jon was gone and Ned didn’t know what to do with himself. He had not expected him to take the girl and leave his home. At least not, without Ned’s permission.

In looks, he was his mother’s son, but he had always been obedient and not of the passionate sort to run away with a pretty girl he hardly knew.

 _A very beautiful girl_ , Ned reminded himself. _Do not lie to yourself. You might have done the same if Ashara Dayne had chosen you over Brandon._

Even so, Jon’s disappearance was now the talk of the castle. Cat had called it a scandal, but most found it amusing. Especially, Robert had howled with laughter when the news had reached his ears.

_Your boy doesn’t get that from you, my old friend!_

Ned had frozen, when he had heard this, for it was true. Jon Snow was not born from his seed. He had raised the boy and given him a home, but in truth he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his sister Lyanna Stark.

Shortly before her death, he had promised to protect the boy from Robert and he had done so by his best abilities.

Yet, the more the boy had grown the more afraid Ned had become to be discovered. It was because of this fear, that he had kept the secret for so long from his wife and even the boy himself.

I failed, he thought. I failed again.

Ever since, Ned had sent out one rider after another to search for the boy and the girl, but with little success.

Guilt was raging in his chest and their home was left more fractured than by Bran’s fall.

Robert still insisted on departing as soon as possible, Cat was upset with him because he was worrying about his bastard, Robb was pressing him for answers, Sansa was still dreaming of her betrothed Prince Joffrey, Arya had thrown a tantrum at Septa Mordane in the morn, Rickon seemed utterly confused by his brother’s disappearance and Benjen was pressuring him to tell Cat the truth.

“Father,” Robb’s voice called him back to the present. “You called us all here and yet you have not said a single word.”

“Ned,” Benjen said and closed the door behind him. Cat was silent, her blue eyes resting on him. “Robb asked you a question.”

Ned could hear the subdued anger in Benjen’s voice.

Ned and Benjen had quarrelled with each other because his brother had revealed the truth to Jon.

Ned had of course blamed Benjen and Benjen had blamed him in return for being so hesitant.

“I heard you,” Ned replied and lifted his gaze to face his lies. “I called you here to speak about Jon.”

“Did you find out about his whereabouts, father?” Robb asked hopeful.

“No,” Ned replied. “But I know why he left us. It was because of his mother.”

“Why can’t you tell us where he is if you know that his disappearance is tied to his mother?” Robb asked in confusion. ”Shouldn’t you know about her whereabouts?”

Ned swallowed hard when he looked at Cat.

She had asked him numerous times about the boy’s parentage, but every time he had refused to answer her questions.

Now, it was time to reveal the truth.

There was no turning back.

“Jon’s mother died in childbirth,” he said, unable to reveal the full truth at once. ”Your uncle Benjen told him the truth and we assume that was the reason he left us.”

“So he ran away with this girl because he found out about his mother?” Cat asked. ”Who was she? Some whore?”

It was Benjen who gave Cat the truth.

“No, the boy is the son of our sister, Lady Lyanna Stark. My sister had her failures, but she was no whore.”

Cat blinked once, twice and a third time before she turned to look back at Ned.

“Is that some bad jest? You and your sister?”

“Of course not,” Ned replied in shock, though he didn’t blame Cat for her confusion. “The boy is not my son. He is the son of my sister and Rhaegar Targaryen!”

Cat’s eyes widened in shock. She didn’t move nor speak. Her face was pale like ash.

“What did you just say?” she asked. “The boy is not your son…”

“No,” Ned confirmed once more. ”The boy is not my son. He is my sister’s child…I promised her to protect him.”

Silence followed and Ned averted his gaze. He was unable to endure the expression of disappointment on her face.

“Prince Rhaegar!” Robb exclaimed then. Ned felt his son pull on his shoulder and turned around to face his son.

Cat remained utterly silent.

”He is Prince Rhaegar’s son…gods…he raped her…,” Robb stuttered, but Ned cut him off.

“No,” Ned replied and shook his head. ”Prince Rhaegar didn’t rape her. Lyanna went freely with the Prince. Making him my bastard was the only way to protect him from Robert. I didn’t relish…,” he tried to explain his reasons, but Cat’s shaking head silenced him.

Her face was now flushed, tears shining in her eyes.

“Didn’t relish it?” she asked, her voice brimming with anger. ”You took me for a fool…you took us all for fools! Did you ever consider the danger you put us in?”

“Aye,” he agreed, his voice growing harder. ”And that is why I didn’t tell you. I certainly didn’t do it out of cruelty…,” he tried to explain, but Cat wanted to hear none of his excuses.

“You lied to me, because you didn’t trust me!” she threw back, her voice raw with emotions. ”Did think I would hand over a helpless babe to Robert Baratheon?”

“I never thought…,” Ned stuttered, his tongue in knots. Benjen came to his rescue.

“We cannot live in the past,” his brother said and touched Robb’s shoulder. ”Jon made his choice, but you all deserved to hear the truth. Only that way we can protect each other.”

“Shame on you, Ned,” Cat said at last, a stream of tears running down her cheeks. ”Your sister’s bastard has more honour than you. He saw how much of a danger he posed to our family and left.”

“He is no bastard,” Ned corrected hesitatingly. ”Prince Rhaegar…he wed Lyanna by the old gods.”

“Gods!” Robb muttered to himself. ”That means…,” he continued, but Cat wanted to hear none of it.

“It matters not. Nobody can ever know the truth,” she insisted firmly.

“Which makes it even more essential for you to go to King’s Landing,” she added. ”There can be no doubt about _our_ loyalties. Do you understand, Ned?”

Ned swallowed hard and lowered his head in acceptance.

“I understand.”

…


	11. Dany

**Dany**

Volantis, her home for so many years head been impressive, but the Titan of Braavos was gigantic. It was a massive statue of stone casting a shadow as far as the eye could see and meant to greet the approaching ships with a loud roar.

Dany shuddered at the sound, leaving her both excited and fearful.

As a child she must have listened to his song many times. Perhaps her brother had taken her there to see the ships and perhaps she had travelled there by ship as well.

She didn’t remember. It had happened so long ago.

“Ah, it is good to hear my old friend again!” the Captain exclaimed, his pipe always at hand. Dany liked talking to him and had learned everything about him during their long travel from White Harbour to Braavos. For thirty years he had been ferrying lumber and pelt between White Harbour and Braavos. No wife or child was waiting for him at home, only the sea was his companion. That was at least what he claimed, but Dany didn’t believe him.

“Is this titan always this loud?” Jon asked and covered his ears against the roaring sound. “How often a day does it happen?”

The Captain’s rumbling laughter spilled over deck, mixing with the sound of the sailors at work. Most were busy, but the other travellers stood lined up along the railing, watching the blue sea and the birds soaring over their heads.

“Three times a day at least, my boy. It happens whenever a ship approaches the harbour. You should get used to it if you intend to stay in this city.”

“Aye,” Jon replied and frowned at the giant. The heat was not to his taste. Dany could see that by the way he was dressed. He no longer wore his pelted cloak. Only his white tunic that was slightly unbuttoned at the chest and pulled up at the arms. Often enough, she found him hiding in the shadows and brushing the sweat from his brow. “That is true.”

They had finally arrived at Braavos, but that didn’t mean they could enter the city immediately. The proceedings that followed took nearly all morn.

First, they had to pass Chequy Port, where two custom officers inspected climbed on board to inspect every part of the ship. The inspection had gone smoothly until one of the two custom offers had spotted Ghost and had sparked a heated conversation with the Captain. Left and right, up and down, their hands had moved as the Captain and the custom offers had engaged in a rather heated discussion. Dany didn’t know how, but eventually, they could pass.

Yet, that was only the beginning. Next, they had been allowed to dock at a place called Ragman’s Harbour.

It was a port solely meant for foreign ships and much different than White Harbour.

The smell of dirt, sweat and poverty hung like a heavy cloud over this place, as they had made their way along the cobbled street leading along the port.

Ever time, Dany turned her head she saw something new. There were mummers, brewers, beggars and whores attending to the sailors and merchants leaving the ships.

The noise and the sheer amount of people cast a stunned expression on Jon’s face. He looked like a little boy lost in a foreign place.

Dany was different. She felt sheer relief to be here, far away from the slavers and Westeros.

Jon was still frowning, his face pale like the mist hovering over the city like a ghost.

Dany drew closer, Ghost prowling behind them garnering gasps and surprised looks from the passing Braavosi.

One girl, dressed in a yellow silk dress made of different layers, backed away fearfully when Ghost sniffled at her.

“Ghost!” shouted and whistled. “To me!”

Quickly, his wolf moved back to his side and Jon stroked his furry ear. Then, Jon chided him for his ill-behaviour.

“We should search for a tavern,” she suggested quietly. “On the morrow, we can explore the city.”

“Aye,” Jon agreed half-heartedly, his dark eyes sweeping over the port. Along this broad street, they found several inns and taverns, some of them carrying descriptive names like Happy Port, Satin Palace, the House of the Seven Lamps and many more. “But we should be careful. We can’t afford to waste too much coin.”

Dany didn’t know why, but his bad mood was getting on her nerves. She felt the sudden urge to cheer him up.

“Don’t fret,” she assured cheerfully. “I learned how to haggle from my mistress.”

The rest of the evening had passed quickly. They had moved from tavern to tavern, comparing prices.

Dany still took the time to take in her surroundings. Maybe she had known this corner as a child? Maybe her brother had taken her here to see the ships?

It was late evening when they finally returned to Happy Port. It was a brothel, but the price was good and the meal for free. Jon seemed also bothered by the presence of the girls.

He was frowning more than ever.

Thus, they ate in silence, their meals consisting of fresh oysters, grilled fish and strange vegetables. One of the girls had called it sea spinach, a dish only known in Braavos.

Dany thanked the girl for her kindness and gave her an extra coin from the money Lord Stark had taken from her former master.

“Is that the coin from your former master?” Jon asked her later. Jon slept across the room, his bed made of hay and wool. His pelted cloak was thrown around his shoulders and their few belongings were stacked against the wall. Hidden in the bags were the eggs they had found in the crypts of Winterfell. Dany’s heart beat faster whenever she held them in her lap. They felt so very warm and were so very beautiful to look upon.

“Dany,” Jon called out to her. “Did you hear?”

“Aye,” she confirmed and nodded her head in confirmation. “The coin is from my former master, but I doubt we will last longer than a handful of moons.”

“That is so,” Jon agreed and lay down on his sleeping place. “We must find a way to support ourselves. I do not fancy the idea of starving to death.”

“We will find something,” Dany assured him and pulled her blanket over her shoulder. Ghost was not far, lying sprawled between Dany and Jon, his red eyes watching her.

Dany tried to sleep, but the noises of the city reaching through the thin walls made it harder than expected.

She tossed and turned all night, Jon’s back turned to her as if he was _very_ determined to avoid her. At least, that was her impression.

His sword was also there beside him as if he expected a nightly assault. On the ship, they had also shared a cabin and he had done the same.

_Like the knights in my brother’s tales, trying to keep the noble maidens from the path of purity._

The thought amused her. Jon was no knight and she was no noble maid anymore.

Eventually, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jon,” she said. She knew he was awake, because his hand was constantly brushing over the pommel of his sword. “Are regret coming here?”

“What?” he asked in confusion and sat up. He turned around and rubbed his eyes. “What did you say?”

“You are constantly frowning,” she explained.

“My ill mood has nothing to do with you,” he assured her and brushed his untidy hair out of his face. “Do you remember the Water Dancers saw today?”

Dany nodded her head. Of course, she recalled the fabulously dressed men that had been competing against each other on the open street.

“Aye, I recall them.”

“Their swords…I gifted my little sister a similar sword…small and nimble, meant for a girl’s hand. She would love it here…I am just upset that my true birth forceed me to leave my home.”

Dany understood what he was trying to say. She had only blurred memories of her brother, but she also longed to see him again.

“I am sure you will see her again,” she assured him. “This king will _surely_ die one day.”

A small smile showed on his lips.

“Probably, but his _vain_ son will rule after him.”

…


	12. Jon

**Jon**

By now they had seen every part of the city. They had moved from island to island, searching for the house matching Dany’s description: a three-storied house with a red door and a lemon tree in front of it.

In the beginning, it hadn’t bothered him all too much. Exploring the city had lifted his mood and every island promised new adventures and foreign sights.

There was the island of the gods, located at the centre of the city that housed hundreds different shrines and temples dedicated to every known god.

Dany knew all their names and spent half the day educating him about them.

Jon only knew the seven and the old gods. The seven had always been foreign to him because he associated them with Lady Stark and the old gods he had followed because they were his father’s gods.

Yet, that had been a lie. Lord Stark was not his true father, but he still thought of him as such. Lord Stark’s betrayal had stung deep, but he was still a man who had cast away his honour to protect him when he could have handed him over to Robert Baratheon.

Thinking of the gods and fathers made him wonder if Prince Rhaegar had worshipped the seven.

It was a silly notion to ponder the beliefs of a ghost, but he couldn’t help it when he saw all these temples deidicated to different gods.

Dany had told him all their names. There was the Tempel of Light, the Tempel of the Moonsingers, the House of Black and White, the Sept-Beyond-the-Sea and some temples even unknown to his book wise travelling companion.

“This city is utter madness!” Jon muttered to himself as they walked along another cobbled alley. The buildings were all made of smoot tones, some pale and some dark. Marble, Jon guessed, though he knew little about such matters.

Yet, it was not hard to see that this was a place meant for the more fortunate members of society.

The ladies residing here wore rich clothing, their hair pulled up atop their heads and decorated with all kinds of frilly head-coverings. Some were decorated with colourful feathers and shiny nets made of silver and gold.

The men looked even more ridiculous. They wore high-buckled boots decorated with silver, gold and gemstones.

Their mistrustful looks didn’t help to ease his fears, though Ghost was following close at their heels.

One time, the guards had nearly caught them, but they had been able to slip away in a nearby alley.

Now they were walking along the same street. It was also getting late, the first signs of dust visibly behind the rooftops.

Yet, Dany was determined to continue her search.

They hadn’t eaten since morn, though they had been forced to take refuge in a nearby tavern, where they had sipped cold tea and had counted their leftover coin.

It was not all too much, but that was no surprise. Jon had to bribe the custom officer to allow Ghost into the city, though that had remained a secret between him and the Captain. He hadn’t wanted to bother his travelling companion with such problems.

“This house looks familiar!” Dany exclaimed and stopped rather abruptly. She was pointing at a three-storied house made of black stone and a yellow roof. This house was a place of splendour and not meant for orphaned children like them.

Yet, that didn’t seem to bother Dany at all.

“Jon,” she said and waved his hand at her. “Lift me up and help me take a look at the door!”

Jon sighed. They had been marching all morn and he understood that desperation was driving her.

“Very well,” he replied. Her slender stature made it easy for her to climb on his back and soon enough she was sitting atop his shoulders like Arya used to do when she was little.

“I am good,” she replied and pulled herself to her full height, her bare feet standing on his shoulders. “Are you alright down there?”

Laughter spilled from his lips. It was utter madness what they were doing, but it had been too long ago that he had last felt like smiling.

“I am good,” Jon assured her and tightened her grip on her feet. A heartbeat later, she had pulled herself atop the wall.

Jon exhaled deeply. And while Dany was looking at the door Jon was keeping watch for possible onlookers.

Luckily, the alley was completely deserted.

“The door is read, but I see no lemon trees,” she said from atop the wall. Her voice was laced with a deep sadness. “I think if another delusion of mine was.”

Jon felt the urge to agree, but he didn’t want to crush her hopes.

“Let’s move on,” he said encouragingly and walked back to the wall. Dany didn’t answer at once, but her slender form casting a shadow on the cobbled street below.

He spread his arms and not long after she was back on the ground, her silver hair hanging in wild tendrils into her face.

“Shall we search elsewhere?” he asked on their way back to Ragman’s Port. Dany said nothing, her gaze still fixed on the ground.

“Dany…,” he said and touched her shoulder.

“No,” she said and shook her head. Her voice brimming with sadness. ”Haven’t you noticed the patter? None of these houses here have a proper garden, let alone a lemon tree. Braavos is devoid of greenery. Maybe I made it all up. Maybe I didn’t even have a brother…,” she trailed off and stopped abruptly.

She sounded like a lost child.

“Nonsenses,” Jon said and tightened his grip on her shoulder. ”I am sure you had a brother, but memories are a fickle thing. Maybe you are just confusing something. It happens.”

“Maybe,” she replied softly leaned into his embrace. ”Maybe you are right.”

Slowly, she turned around, her violet eyes shining with tears.

Her pale face looked like glass and her silver hair was wet from the rain pouring from the sky.

“I hope so,” Jon replied and smiled at her. ”We should get back to Happy Port. I fear it will pour all night and I don’t think Ghost wants to take another bath.”

“Probably,” Dany agreed, a trembling laugh spilling from her lips. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her face and pointed ahead. ”Happy Port it is.”

Happy Port was brimming with customers tonight. Jon gotten used to their flimsy clothing and the drunken men boasting about their prowess, but that didn’t mean he liked it here.

Their meal that night was simple, potato soup and hard bread, but for Jon’s empty stomach it felt like heaven. One of the girls was even so kind to bring Ghost leftovers from their kitchen.

Their chamber was upstairs, but the bawdy songs and noises from the brothel below were still reaching through the thin walls.

“We should search for a place to rent,” Dany said after they had finished their meal. ”And we need work.”

“Aye,” he agreed and continued to smooth his hand over Ghost’s. ”I heard from the Captain that dock workers are always needed but come the rainy season the paymasters of the sellsword companies are advertising for new recruits.”

Dany didn’t seem all too pleased with his idea but didn’t contradict him either.

She simply smiled. “I can work. I will ask around on the morrow.”

Jon nodded his head in understanding. He was a little startled by her resolution. For three days, she had been searching the entire city like a madwoman and now she was ready to abandon it as if it had meant nothing to her.

“What about your search?”

“It matters not,” she replied, defensively. ”I cannot waste my time, chasing the past.”

“Maybe, “Jon said. “But maybe you are just asking the wrong questions.”

“Wrong questions?” she asked and wrinkled her brows in confusion. ”What are you trying to say?”

“Maybe you should stop searching for painted doors but inquire about your brother. You have silver hair and purple eyes…Did your brother look anything like you What was his name?”

She pondered his question for a moment, before answering.

“I think so…,” she said. “But I remember his name. He was called _Viserys_.”

Jon had nearly spilled his tea over Ghost’s head when this answer had left her lips.

“ _Viserys_ ,” he asked, his heartbeat increasing rapidly. “Are you sure?”

Dany blinked in confusion. “What of it?”

 _It was the name of my bloodfather’s younger brother_ , he wanted to answer, but something held him back. _No, it can’t be…it would be utter madness._

“Jon,” Dany said and searched his gaze. “What of it?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Tell me more about your brother. Tell me everything you can remember.”

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, her violet eyes were wide and bright like stars.

“They killed our caretaker…my brother…he threw me out of the window. There was garden and a door that led out to the street that nobody knew about other than my brother. I was bleeding from the broken glass and the insides of the house were on fire. They burned him…they burned my brother and our caretaker. Then, I ran…the rest are blurred memories.”

 _Gods_ , he thought to himself. _There is no other possibility…Who would do something monstrous like this to innocent children if he didn’t fear them?_

“Jon,” Dany said and leaned closer, her warm breath tickling his cheek. “Did my tale disturb you?”

“Aye,” he admitted and brushed his hand over her cheek. He had done it subconsciously and quickly pulled his hand away when he noticed his mistake. “A little.”

She chuckled. “Well, I am thankful for your help regardless of the outcome of our fruitless search.”

Jon nodded and exhaled deeply. His head was pounding violently and he needed fresh air.

For her search had not been fruitless at all. That is if his suspicions were correct…

“Jon,” she asked and touched his arm. “You are trembling...Are you well?”

Jon sucked in a deep breath and shook his head in disbelief.

 _No_ , Jon thought. _It cannot be true_. _What a twisted tale that would be._

…


	13. Dany

**Dany**

They had been running about Drunkard’s Town all morning. She and Mella, the tenant’s wife, that had rented them a small room facing out to the street, had been selling fresh oyster to the passing crowd.

Among their customers, Dany had observed a great variety of people: sailors, whores, singers, and even merchants. Now and then, there was also one of the famous sea wives among them. They seemed to know Mella well, for they were always laughing and exchanging jests.

Mella was a tall and graceful woman, her blond hair falling to her waist in thick curls. The only mark on her beauty was the burned off skin on her neck, but unlike Dany she didn’t hide it from the world.

“Nightfall is close,” Mella observed and pointed at the distant sky. Streaks of red and orange littered the horizon, the buildings in the distance nothing more than shadows. ”I think it is time to pack our things. Mara will be upset if I return too late for supper.”

Mara was her eldest daughter. Like her mother, she usually spent half her days selling fish near Ragman’s Port, but by now she was probably back home, taking care of her younger sisters Hadi and Shala.

Hadi was ten and four and an acolyte in the Temple of Light.

Shala, the youngest, counted only ten name-days and spent most of her days at home, taking care of the home and the other tenants.

Mella’s husband was long dead. He had been a sailor and one day he had simply not returned.

“Of course,” Dany replied and picked up her basket.

They had sold most of the oysters but hadn’t earned them much coin.

Jon didn’t make much either with his work at the docks, but they were at least able to afford the rent.

It didn’t surprise her at all that Jon was entertaining the idea of joining a sellsword company.

He had grown up like a high lord. He was not used to such base work and claimed he could just sell his sword if he made no use of it.

Dany had no doubt about his abilities, but she was not naïve either.

Joining a sellsword company was a dangerous business and she had also grown very fond of Jon’s presence.

The sun had already disappeared behind the horizon when they arrived at their home.

The moon was full and lightened the streets better than these flimsy streetlights.

“Where have you been, mother?” Mara inquired after they had climbed up the steps leading to the entrance. She wore a dirty green dress and her dark hair was braided atop her head. ”It took you longer than usual.”

“Aye,” Mella confirmed and pulled off her cloak. ”We had a lot of customers.”

“I can see it, mother,” the girl chirped and opened the door for them. Shala was hovering in the anteroom, her red hair kept in two long pigtails. ”But it is close to nightfall…we thought you got lost.”

Mella’s face lightened up and she touched her red amulet wrought in the form of a flame. ”I know every street in this city. I would never get lost.”

Like her second-oldest daughter, Mella was a devout follower of the God of Light and went regularly to the temple to receive blessings.

Then, she shifted her attention back to Dany, who had observed their exchange in silence.

“You should come and eat with us one of these days,” she said and gave Dany a warm smile.

“I would be honored,” Dany said and dipped her head, before climbing down the stairs towards her own dwelling place.

Carefully, she opened the door and stepped inside.

Ghost was already there, sprawled on the floor next to the fireplace.

The popping fire in the hearth surprised her even more.

Quietly, she entered the next room and found Jon sleeping on his bed of hay and wool.

Dany always slept near the fireplace, but she had offered him numerous times to sleep next to her.

It would be much more pleasant for him, but Jon had proved more stubborn than expected.

Sighing, she closed the door behind her and stirred the dying fire back to life. Then, she placed the pot on the flames and heated the water.

For others, cold water might suffice to take a quick bath, but Dany preferred it scalding. She gladly accepted the additional work of carrying the water here every morn.

It was after all her only luxury. Happily, she discarded her dress and cleaned herself before the open fire.

She enjoyed every moment of it and helped to loosen her stiff muscles.

“Do you always have to do that,” Jon’s grumpy voice caused her to turn around. His face appeared longer than usual and his dark brown hair stood in all directions. He looked as if he had just crawled out of bed. “At least, give me a warning.”

Dany grinned. They had been living together for nearly two moons and even so he acted as if he had never seen a naked girl.

Dany knew why he was acting like that, though nobody here cared about his past. Most didn’t even understand why he still called himself _Snow_.

Even Mella and her daughters considered them wed, though they had never shared a bed since their first encounter.

“Usually you are not home during this time of the day,” Dany replied and pulled her dress back over her head.

“Better?” Dany asked and smiled.

“Much better,” Jon replied approvingly and returned her smile.

“When did you return?”

“Not long ago,” Dany replied and brushed her hand through her wet hair. It was getting too long and bothersome. ”Why are you home already?”

“Didn’t you see?” he asked and frowned. ”I wanted it to be a surprise.”

Dany was confused.

“A surprise?” she asked and looked around in confusion. ”What do you mean?”

“Your nameday…the door.”

“The door?”

“Come along…I will show you,” Jon said and opened the door.

The street outside was deserted, the dark sky littered with numerous stars.

Jon quickly closed the door behind them and lifted his candle.

It was the light that revealed the truth.

Someone had painted the formerly brown door in bright crimson.

Dany didn’t know what to say.

“Did I get the right color?” he asked her, his dark eyes resting on the door.

She tried to speak, but no word left her mouth.

“I wasn’t sure…,” he stuttered, but Dany sealed his mouth with a kiss.

His lips were soft and inviting.

Surprisingly, he returned her kiss. He parted her lips, his tongue brushing against hers.

A surge of desire washed through her body, but then he stopped and pulled away.

It felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over them.

“So, I assume you like my gift?” Jon asked her and pulled her back inside.

It was then that she noticed the peddler boys watching them from the roof.

_Brats._

“Of course, I like it,” she said and eyed his lips. ”I was just surprised…I am just not used to gifts like this.”

“Oh,” he said. His face was alight with surprise. “Oh…”

Dany made use of the moment and kissed him again, smoothing her hands through his hair.

He pulled away again, his dark eyes staring back at her with a mixture of lust and shame.

“You don’t have to repay me…,” Jon was about to reply, but Dany slapped him over the shoulder for his stupid answer.

“Sometimes you are really a fool!” she snapped while he was rubbing his shoulder. ”That was not at all the reason I kissed you.”

He looked guilty.

“I didn’t mean…,” he stuttered and flushed. ”I didn’t mean to insult you. I liked it. Truly, I did.”

His answer assured her even more.

“Good,” she said and pulled the dress over her shoulders. ”Because I am sick and tired of sleeping alone.”

“Dan…,” he wanted to protest again but seemed to forget about his doubts when she kissed him again and slipped her fingers beneath his tunic.

He even helped her pull off his tunic. His boots and breeches followed shortly after.

Jon stopped for a moment. Then, he swallowed hard and kissed her again.

He gasped into her neck, then moaned, when reached between their bodies to touch him.

Soon, his fingers were digging into her back. His head was buried on her shoulder and he was gasping for air.

“Stop it!” Jon exclaimed abruptly and stopped her hand. “Or this will be quick!”

And then his mouth was back on hers, his hand brushing over her breast and hip.

In turn, she threaded her hand through his hair.

Then, she pulled him back to her sleeping place, next to the hearth.

She pulled him down with her, but she noticed the fear in his eyes.

“What is wrong?” she asked and brushed her hand through his disheveled hair.

He didn’t answer, the silence stretched endlessly.

Then, he shook his head.

“Nothing is wrong,” Jon replied at last and placed himself beside her.

His dark eyes fluttered, as he slid inside her. “I am just being foolish…That is all.”

His words had been a whisper, but now he exhaled deeply.

His breathing was ragged.

It hadn’t hurt like the last time, but he asked her anyway.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” she whispered and touched her mouth to his. ”Not at all.”

His movements were controlled, his labored breathing muffled by her shoulder. She wanted him to kiss her again, but his face was buried in her neck, his fingers grasping the bedding.

Soon all of that was forgotten. Her body was burning with heat, her breathing becoming ragged, as he sped up his movements.

With one last quick motion, he slid impossible deep and left her gasping for her air, stars exploding before her very eyes.

He collapsed on top of her, his head buried in her neck.

Carefully, he lifted his head, his pupils blown and his face flushed.

He gave her an apologetic look.

“I wanted to pull out, but I was too distracted,” he told her. It took her a moment before she understood what he meant.

“You are silly,” she chided him and chuckled. “I certainly do not mind if you are distracted.”

He frowned at that. “Do you always have to tease me?”

“Aye,” she confirmed and couldn’t help but laugh again. “Because some things are just not worth getting upset about, Jon Snow.”

He averted his gaze. “Perhaps not, but I am not like you.”

“Neither should you,” Dany assured him. “I like you with all your frowns and complaints, but I am sure it would help you as well if you just stopped caring so much what others think about you. Nobody here cares whether you are a prince or a bastard.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “But I do not like the notion of fathering a bastard.”

Dany laughed again and pulled her bedding over her shoulders.

“If you are worried about that…Well, there is an easy solution for our problem…there are hundreds of temples in this city. I will leave the choice to you.”

…


	14. Jon

**Jon**

The Tempel of Light was beautiful to behold. Its walls were made of thick red stone and the roof was covered with black shining tiles that reflected the moonlight back at its observer. Only the crowd of people was slightly smaller than in the other temples.

“This temple?” Jon asked Dany and jerked his head at the entrance, a large iron door embellished with burning hearts. “Are you a follower of this god?”

Dany shook hear head and pulled on his arm. She wore her best dress, one she had made together with Mella’s girls. It was dark green and cut in the Braavos style. It consisted of a skirt that reached only to the ankles and a long-sleeved tunic that was covered by the upper part of the dress. Her hair was braided up around her head and hidden by a feathered cap. She also wore these uncomfortable buckled boots that all Braavosi liked to wear.

“My mistress did not force me to commit to a specific god,” she explained. “Most girls followed different gods, but many liked this one.”

“Why?” Jon asked in confusion. “What makes this god…R’hllor different from other gods?”

“He does not frown upon whores or slaves,” Dany explained. “Good or bad, he protects all misfits.”

“Misfits,” Jon muttered to himself. “Does that include bastards?”

Dany pondered over his words and smiled. “The god of light has no concept of bastards; I think, but then I am not well-versed in his teachings. Apart from that, there is another reason why I chose for us to be married here. They don’t expect coin.”

Jon gave her a startled look. “No coin?”

“No coin,” Dany chuckled and pulled him further towards the entrance. Two acolytes, each a boy and a girl, sat there, their red robes flowing in the soft breeze. They did not look up, their eyes dazed by the flames they were watching. “But blood.”

Jon stopped abruptly. “Blood?”

Dany chuckled. “It is not as bad as you think. They usually take half a cup, not more than a lady loses during her moonblood. Or are you telling me that a man who aims to be a sellsword is afraid of a little lifeblood?”

Jon’s cheeks burned in embarrassment. “Of course not. I am not embarrassed at all. I have just never heard of such a strange practice. What do they need blood?”

“I do not know,” Dany replied. “But some of the girls said they use it to perform magic. I have been to such a temple only once and gave my blood, but I saw no magic. It was a bit strange, but I think we will be fine.”

Jon grew more and more skeptical, as he followed Dany towards the crowd that had gathered around the golden cup filled with roaring flames. Above their heads, one could see the night sky, pink and yellow and orange, a mixture of colors, almost like the curling flames.

Even a handful of stars could be seen, but Jon knew the moon would not be full, as it was supposed to be for a northern wedding. Not that Dany seemed to care about that. She didn’t seem to think much about marriage ceremonies in general.

 _Sansa would have made a big fuss_ , he mused. _And Arya would have complained._

They had to wait for what felt an eternity until they were called forth before the high priestess, a woman garbed in red robes. She had a young face, but there was something wise about her dark eyes as if they had seen more than Jon’s seventeen years.

“You are welcome,” she said and smiled. “Are you here to seek the blessing of our god?”

“We wish to be wed,” Dany explained in Bastard Valyrian. Jon had learned it well enough to understand the gist of what they were saying. “With the blessings of your god if it pleases you. I have no coin to give, only blood.”

The lady in red smiled brightly. “Our God welcomes everyone, man and woman, child and babe, old man and crone. All are welcome. Your sacrifice shall be enough.”

Dany smiled and bared her arm. “How will it be done?”

“Come along,” the lady in red said and led the way. There, at the end of the room, she pulled aside a black drape that led to a staircase. “Don’t be afraid.”

They climbed up the steps and reached another corridor, long and dark, safe for a handful of torches at the walls. At last, the lady in red pushed another door open, a smaller chamber with a smaller pit of fire.

An acolyte girl was waiting here upon her mistress’ favor.

“Bring me my ruby,” Jon heard her say. “And call for Myria to strengthen the flames.”

“Come along,” the lady in red said and eyed first Dany and then Jon. “Your offer is welcome, but to perform a wedding both must give blood.”

Jon sighed. “Very well. You shall have my blood as well.”

Soon the acolyte girl returned and handed her a dagger. The lady in red unsheathed it and handed the blade to Dany.

“Here.”

Dany smiled and brought the blade to her had. Blood dribbled down her white skin and the acolyte girl was quick enough to capture it in a gilded cup.

Jon had expected her to weep, but she had not even winced.

“Now your turn,” she said and handed him the blade. “They need only a little, see.”

Jon nodded his head and brought the blade to his arm. The blade bit into the soft skin, like a hot kiss on a winter’s day, but it was not more painful than getting bruised by swordplay.

As before, the acolyte girl gathered his blood in the golden cup. When it was all done they poured it into a bottle and took it away.

“Is it done?” Dany asked.

“It is done,” the lady in red replied and jerked her head to the burning pit. “Come closer and receive the lords’ blessing.”

She joined their bloodied hands. It was a strange ceremony, but Jon couldn’t oppose it when Dany showed no fear.

“The night is dark and full of terrors,” the lady in red started to chant. “Alone we are born and alone we die, but as we walk through this black vale we draw strength from one another and from you, our lord. Two come forth today to join their lives, so they may face this world’s darkness together. Fill their hearts with fire, my lord, so they may walk your shining path hand in hand forever.”

“The Lord of light, protect us,” the girl next to her muttered. Dany followed suit but in a softer voice. “Lord of Light, protect us.”

Jon said nothing. This god was not his god, but it was better than the seven, Lady Stark’s gods, who only held only disgust for bastards.

“We thank you for the sun that warms us,” the girls chanted. “We also thank you for the stars that watch over us in the black night. We thank you for our hearths and for our torches that keep the darkness at bay. We thank you for our bright spirits, the fires in our loins, and in our hearts.”

At last, the chanting ended and the lady spread her arms wide. “Let them come forth, who would be joined.”

The flames seemed to grow and to grow, a bright ruby burning on her throat.

“Let’s go,” Dany urged him and they stepped forward. Jon felt the heat on his skin. “You can’t run off now.”

“I never wanted to run off,” Jon muttered to himself. _I just don’t want to burn off my skin._

“What is your name?” the lady in red asked.

“Jon,” he replied.

“And yours?” the lady in red asked Dany.

“Dany,” she replied.

“Well then,” prodded the lady in red. “Will you share your fire with Dany and warm her bed when the night is dark and full of terrors?”

Jon’s skin felt as if it was being pressed into a hot brazier.

“I swear.”

“Do you swear to do the same?” the lady in red asked Dany.

Dany giggled. It seemed as if all this was a game for her. “I swear.”

“Then, come to me and be as one,” the lady in red said. A gust of wind washed over the flames. “Two went before the flames and unified they emerge. What fire joins, none may tear asunder.”

With these words, the lady in red had dismissed them.

I had been half as strange as Jon had expected.

“And you are satisfied with that?” Jon asked her later after they had returned to Happy Port. They also got a little drunk and Ghost got bones to gnaw on. The wine was not bad either. Not as sweet as the summer wine he had consumed at the king’s feast, but better than anything Jon had had since they left the north behind them. “This ceremony and being blessed by this strange god.”

Dany laughed, her cheeks glowing from the wine and the fire. “I told you to choose another temple, but you were unable to make a decision.”

Jon shrugged his shoulders and took another sip from his cup. “There is no point to it when there is no weirwood.”

“Which is why I got to choose,” she replied and poured herself another cup. Jon was surprised. For a girl, she could hold her own. “I hope you didn’t mind. I know these red priests are a little strange.”

“They are strange indeed,” Jon replied with a quick smile. “But not stranger than the old gods.”

Dany laughed. “Well, I do not know much about your father’s gods. How do they celebrate marriages in the north?”

“Well, usually thee is a full moon and the bride and the groom stand before the weirwood tree. They give their vows and then they pray to receive the gods’ blessings. But as I said…it would be pointless if there is no real weirwood tree.”

“And you didn’t mind giving your blood?” she asked cheerfully. “I am still wondering what they are doing with it.”

“I don’t want to know,” Jon replied. “Sometimes, it is better to be left in the dark.”

They shared another flagon of wine before they returned to their chamber. Jon had not thought he would enjoy fucking so much, but now he understood what his uncle Benjen had meant when he had said to him that he wouldn’t understand what he was giving up before he had known the taste of a woman.

It was the bright sunlight that woke him from his slumber and the pounding in his head that left him confused. It was an unpleasant feeling, but the touch of Dany’s hot skin beside him helped to ease the pain.

He smelled too, he noticed as he pushed back the bedding and stood. Ghost lifted his head and rolled to the side, making a sorrowful howl. _He is hungry_ , Jon knew, but when he looked out of the window he found the sky dark and distant.

It was still an hour or two before they would have a proper breakfast. Thinking about what awaited them every day, he realized that he wanted more than just scraps. They had never had luxuries at Winterfell, but he had not been raised as a servant and even at the Wall he would have been allowed to put his abilities to use.

Yet, doing that would mean to leave.

“What are you doing, Jon?” Dany asked behind him and caused him to turn around. She was already pulling her sleeping robe over her head, her hair tousled from sleep and other activities. “It is not even dawn.”

“It is not,” he replied and crawled back into bed. He felt suddenly cold when only moments ago he had felt too hot. Braavos was similar to this, sometimes rainy and sometimes humid, making his clothes stick to his body. “But I felt compelled to look. You know, I must leave early.”

Dany sighed and pointed at the stack of parchments on her worktable.

“Well, it is easier for me. I can do my work from here.”

“I suppose,” Jon replied, the close presence of her breasts visibly through her gown made it hard to think. He had kissed and fondled them a good hundred times the night before. “You know…I have been thinking.”

“Thinking about what,” she replied unhappily. She knew what his plans were and she tried to distract him, by climbing into his lap. Again, he found himself brushing his fingers across her breast and felt it harden beneath his touch. He felt his cock hardening as well and felt a hint of shame. “To leave for some adventure with one of these sellsword companies?”

“You know it,” Jon replied and held back a slight gasp when she touched him. “And you are trying to make me forget about it, aren’t you?”

Dany’s violet eyes sparkled like two amethysts. “What of it?”

As she had said this she had brushed her body against his. Jon felt the blood in his veins boil. It must have been this kind of feeling that had driven his foolish parents to their death.

Well, that and the rebellion. It was not something she could easily discard.

But all these doubts were quickly forgotten when Dany took hold of him and lowered herself upon him.

“What now?” she asked after he had spilled inside her and had rolled to the side. “Are you still determined to go?”

“Aye,” Jon replied and brushed his hand over her thighs and up to the base of her neck. “I am still determined to go. Think of it…we could live off a whole year from the payments. You could open up some shop and we could move to a better part of the city. It is just a handful of moons.”

Dany frowned at that. “But it is dangerous.”

“Life itself is dangerous,” Jon argued. “You know that.”

“Perhaps,” Dany replied and sat up. She crossed her arms in front of her. “I cannot change your mind, can I?”

Jon laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “No, I fear not. I am too stubborn for my own good.”

“Very well,” Dany sighed and climbed out of bed. “You have my agreement. When will you leave?”

“Soon,” Jon replied and smiled when Ghost brushed his head against his naked arm. He was hungry. “But if you are afraid…I could leave Ghost with you.”

Dany shook her head, her silver hair falling into her face. “You have much more need of him than I. I am safe here.”

Jon nodded his head.

“Well, then,” he said and smiled at Ghost. “It seems we are going on an adventure, boy.”

Ghost made a low sound, obviously displeased that had yet to receive his fast.

“He doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about the matter,” Dany jested.

Jon laughed.

“He is just hungry. Wait and see.”

…


	15. Arya

**Arya**

The darkness around her felt suffocating and the scratches left by the stupid cat continued to burn.

She had tried to be as silent as possible, just as her dancing master had taught her, but that was easier said than done. The first cat had gotten away without much effort, the second one had been so scared that she had escaped between Arya’s legs and the third cat had covered her with so many bites and cuts that she had bled all over her tunic.

Her lady mother and father would surely be horrified by her appearance while her dancing master would probably smile and chide her for her lack of agility.

Yet, she had not given in and had made one attempt after another until she had come across a very vicious cat, big and fat and without an ear. The beast had shown her even less mercy than the cats before.

Overwhelmed by her task, Arya had also forgotten the time. The bells were ringing six times, telling her that it was almost time for supper.

Thus, Arya had tried to clean herself at a nearby fountain and had rushed back where she belonged only to get lost again.

In Winterfell, she had been called Arya Underfoot, but not she was Arya the lost wolf. It was embarrassing and it made her glad her brothers were not here. Robb would chide her and Bran and Rickon would laugh about her. Well, she wouldn’t mind if Bran laughed about her. She doubted he was smiling much these days, stuck in his bed. Only Jon…she so dearly wished he was here. She was also sure he would help her catch these feral cats, but then he had run away with this girl.

Arya didn’t even know what he could want from a girl, but then boys were stupid and always changed their minds.

It wasn’t like she was angry with Jon, but she would have preferred if he had taken her with him, instead of leaving her here with Sansa, who spent most of her days fawning over Joff.

Seeing was hard in these dimly-lit halls and at times she felt spiders crawling over her body. The dust made her eyes water and her skin scratchy. The thought alone made her shudder, for she was sure Septa Mordane would impose another one of her hot baths on her upon her return. The old woman would make her skin burn from the brush and the soap. It was a nightmare come true.

_It is your own fault, foolish girl. Now gather your courage._

Sucking in a deep breath, she continued to crawl through these never-ending tunnels until she found a corner with a brazier. Finally, there was some light and a moment later she saw it.

There was the tomcat, she had tried to catch before, a fat thing without an ear and yellow eyes, like two polished coins.

Arya stared at the cat, its tail waving and its soft purr the only sound besides her pounding heart.

“Well, if I am late, I might as well take you with me,” she whispered and drew closer. Exhaling deeply, she made a leap. She caught the animal’s body, but its sharp fangs cut deep into her skin. Arya bit her lips and tried to keep the cat still, but the animal was faster, disappearing into the darkness.

She had stumbled in the process, landing on her ass.

It was another failure, but Arya made another failed attempt.

She rushed after the cat, down a pair of spiraling steps. Along the walls, she saw scones that were meant for torches, but she saw none. Only darkness.

Suddenly, she felt even more lost than before. With a racing heart, she made a step down the stairs. Then, another and another, her hands touching the cool walls. She counted each step to distract herself until she reached the bottom.

There she found only more darkness...

Exhaling deeply, Arya touched the wall again, using it as her guidance. She walked for a while until the darkness eased. She didn’t know why, but it felt as if her eyes were getting accustomed to the darkness, for she could finally make out shapes, despite the lack of light. There was a hall looming ahead, a broad hall with high pillars. It was colder here than upstairs and when she entered light fell through the slits in the wall, filling the hall with a golden light.

Arya’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest, when she saw the creatures lined up against the walls. It were ancient bones, their eyes hollow and empty. Some were as tall as the stone pillars and others not smaller than a horse, but by the shape of their heads and sharp teeth, she could tell that they were dragons. Well, no real dragons, but dragon skulls at least.

Her heart filled both with fear and admiration. She had always dreamed of seeing real dragons, but this was better than nothing.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel a little anxious, as she crept closer and brushed her hand over the dragon skull. It felt cold and smooth.

She wanted to stay longer, but her father would miss her. Exhaling deeply, she bridged the distance to the other door. Along the way, she saw larger and larger skulls. One was broken in two and looked almost like the shadow of a man. A very big man, almost like the Mountain.

She brushed these thoughts away and went to the door.

There she felt a breeze of cool wind. It must be the way out. The way to freedom.

She pulled on the door, opening it slowly. It made a loud screeching sound that made her ears bleed, but when she stepped in the other room, she felt suddenly much more at ease.

The light was stronger here and a pair of stairs led up to the world she had left, back to her father and Sansa. Smiling, she made the first step, but by the second step she recoiled, all the way down the stairs and around the corner.

Her heartbeat only increased, as she poked her head around the corner, to see who was going there.

At first, she only saw a shadow, but then she saw a man. He was not very tall and he was dressed in a black cloak, his head bare and shiny.

Arya followed closely, her heart racing wildly as she climbed one step after another. Finally, they reached the bottom. It smelled here, of shit and salt and fish, like everywhere in this stinking city.

Yet, that was perhaps the reason this man had come here to meet with this other odd man. He was perhaps the fattest man Arya had ever seen, even fatter than Lord Manderly of White Harbour.

Their voices were mere whispers being reflected back from the walls.

“It is only a matter of time before he finds the rest of the bastards,” the man with the bare had said. “And knowing him, honor will compel him to tell the king.”

“A fool who is easily blinded by honor,” the fat man added jestingly. “A fool who will drag his family in another war.”

“The near-death of his second son drives him,” the bare-headed man added calmly. “Soon the lions and the wolves will be at each other’s throats. So much is sure, but that is not the only matter that worries me, old friend. This exiled lord, Ser Jorah Mormont, brings tidings that are both surprising and dangerous.”

The fat man was silent for a moment time before he spoke again.

“How is it possible that Princess Daenerys’ survival has escaped you for all these years?”

“It was a mistake on my side,” the bare-headed man replied, his filled with obvious displeasure. “But the past cannot be changed. We can only look for the future. The Princess Daenerys needs to be found and brought to safety. Our black dragon will have need of her support.”

“And what will we do in the meantime?” the fat man asked. “Do you want me to call upon the Golden Company?”

“The time is not ripe,” the bare-headed man implored. “We must delay. The Golden Company is not ready.”

“It matters not what we do, old friend. The Imp has been taken by the Stark woman and Lord Tywin will not tolerate such an insult. War is coming to the Riverlands and soon to the rest of the realm will surely follow. We must secure the girl and bring our black dragon in place. What say you?”

“That I have yet to find Princess Daenerys,” the bare-headed man replied unhappily. “According to Jorah’s claims, the girl was supposed to wed the old Tiger’s son. The king will rage…we must be careful.”

“We shall be careful,” the fat man answered softly, their voices fading away.

Arya felt the urge to follow after them, but she also knew she needed to go back to her father as soon as possible.

These men had spoken about her father and war. A war between the lions and the wolves.

The thought scared her shitless, as she climbed down the rest of the steps, following the smell. Eventually, she emerged from the darkness and found herself at the beach. Her clothing and hair were wet and she smelled like a pigsty, but she was still alive and breathing.

She wiped her face and lifted her head. In the distance she saw the Red Keep, feeling a deep sense relief that she was still in King’s Landing.

The walk back was long and the first signs of dawn were visible when she arrived at the gates. The two gold cloaks at the gates eyed her with distrust.

“Fuck off!” one shouted. “We have no need for beggars!”

Arya knew then that she should have washed herself in the river.

“My name is Arya Stark! I am the Hand’s daughter!”

The men laughed, but when she made her complaints known the familiar voice of another man rang in her ears. It was Tom, who smiled in relief when he laid eyes upon her.

“Arya,” he said. “I can scarcely recognize you. How did you end up here, my lady?”

“I got lost,” she apologized. “And now stop staring at me and help me get inside!”

Not long after, Tom was pushing her into her father’s solar.

He was seated at the table, reading in the fattest tome Arya had ever seen. It smelled of dust and looked ancient, the kind of books Luwin enjoyed reading.

Tom spoke to father, while Arya watched from the entrance, hiding her stinking form. She was sure father would not be pleased when he saw her.

Finally, Tom was sent on his way and Arya called upon to step forward.

Her father eyed her in shock.

“Where have you been, sweetling? Tom and the others have been searching half the evening for you.”

“I was running about the Red Keep and got lost,” she explained, all of it bursting from her lips. “I got lost and saw two men…they were talking about you and a brewing war!”

Her father shook his head in disbelief.

“Arya,” he said and pulled on her shoulder. “You cannot just run off. Your mother told me to care for you..” he began, but Arya interrupted him.

“Father! They spoke about you!”

Finally, her father listened. He sighed deeply and brushed his hand over her shoulder in a soothing manner, pulling her towards him.

“What did these men look like?”

“One was bald and smelled sweet. The other one was fat and spoke with a strange accent. They spoke of you and Bran…they said the wolves and the lions will soon be at each other’s throats. They also spoke of dragons and a Princess Daenerys.”

Arya had tried her best to explain her thoughts, but her mind was a wild storm of confusion.

“Arya,” her father said and smoothed his hand over her hair. His tone was serious and sad. “Are you sure about this?”

“Of course!” Arya exclaimed. “I swear it!”

Her father nodded his head in silent contemplation.

Then, he put her other hand on her shoulder.

“Good,” he said. “Which is why it is most important that you keep this information to yourself. Do you understand?”

Arya nodded her head. Her father would know best.

“I shall keep this to myself as long as you need.”

…


	16. Jon

**Jon**

The river _Darkwash_ was cast in a bloody glimmer. Beyond the river, Jon spotted a sea of pine-trees as dark as the river curling before them.

 _These trees are the true gold of Qohor_ , one of the sergeant’s had told them upon their arrival. _By selling this gold the rulers of Qohor pay for their Unsullied._

Busco, a recruit from Braavos had told him in great detail about the training of the Unsullied. He had summed it up with torture, murder, and blood. Caspian and Rollo, two other recruits hailing from Braavos had refused to believe him.

According to them, no man would slaughter innocent babes.

This incident had occurred two days ago, but Jon and Busco had soon found other companions who hadn’t hesitated to share their gruesome tales with them over the cookfire.

Tito hadn’t hesitated about their enemy, the Dothraki. Even in Westeros Jon had heard about them: barbarians armed with bows and curved blades. Yet, it was this lack of fear in the face of death that made them so dangerous.

Never face a Dothraki horde on an open field, Tito had told them and had bared his white teeth. He spoke their language well but was prone to confuse certain words, which often led to misunderstandings.

Jon liked the young man because he was like Robb. Like his brother, the young man excelled with the lance while Jon was the better swordsman. Yet, the lance was the preferred choice of weapon among the Second Sons. Every recruit received a spear, a shield, and a piece of leather armor. Most men had their own horses, but those who were less fortunate had to accept a deduction from their salary.

Jon was one of these unfortunate souls, but his salary would still be enough to live a year without worries.

“Why are you frowning, Jon?” Busco asked and watched a group of men disappearing in the bushes, two whores in tow. The girls usually slept close to the Commander’s tent, who frequently asked for their company.

Captain Mero was a tall man with a bushy red beard. He made the impression of a seasoned warrior, but after spending three moons in his presence, Jon felt nothing but dislike for the man.

While his men were starving and were forced to sleep upon the hard ground, Mero slept in a tent of Myrish silk and often sipped his wine from a golden cup. Jon was not the only person who held this opinion, but like all the others he kept his mouth shut.

 _Only six moons_ , he told himself and forced a smile over his lip. _Only six moons._

“Our mission,” Jon replied. ”Why do the rulers of Qohor employ sellswords to fight the Dothraki horde when they have these Unsullied at their disposal?”

Busco frowned and rubbed his bearded face. He was one or two years older than Jon, but he had the face of a boy, all soft and without the hint of a scar. Why he decided to join a sellsword company was a mystery to Jon, because the young man wasn’t particularly gifted with the sword, though he was a passable rider.

“The Dothraki are fearsome, but not exactly cunning,” Tit added, who was oiling his blade. “They think nothing of armor and they don’t know how to besiege cities. The Dothraki horde would never be able to take Qohor with its high walls and army of Unsullied guarding it. That is why they prefer to attack smaller towns along the trade roads. The rulers of Qohor usually pay tributes to the Dothraki to stop these attacks, but there have already been six attacks in the first half of this year. I supposed they want to make clear to the Dothraki that they have crossed a line, though I am not sure if the Second Sons and the Stormcrows will be enough. The high salary promises danger and blood.”

Then, Tito put his blade away and jerked his head at the landscape.

“But don’t fret. We are safe now,” Tito added with a smile. Their camp was located atop a hilly landscape with the river Darkwash at their back and disappearing in the dark forest. The camp itself was orderly and well-defended. A deep ditch had been dug around it, sharp stakes jutting into the air. “The Dothraki can’t swim and this is the only crossing suited for horses.”

“How comforting,” Jon said sarcastically. ”Maybe it would be best to simply lure these Dothraki near water and drown them.”

Busco wrinkled his brows in confusion. ”There is a river over there if it escaped your attention, friend.”

“It didn’t escape my attention,” Jon replied. ”I was thinking of a lake…not a river. Besides, I was just joking.”

Tito seemed to like the idea, his golden-brown eyes alight with amusement.

“My Uncle knew a man who escaped from Vaes Dothrak…not far from the city you can find a mighty lake the Dothraki use for cleaning rituals. I wish we could just drown all these bloody Khals in this lake. That would be quite ironic.”

His joke was laced with anger, but that was no surprise. Even in Braavos, they heard about the woes of the Sheepmen. Their towns were often raided by the Dothraki horde and its inhabitants sold into slavery. Dany had known numerous girls who had suffered this fate.

“Certainly,” Jon agreed and pulled his cloak back over his shoulder. Then he emptied his cup of watered wine and rolled to his side. He was a man born and bred in the north, but Qohor was colder than anticipated. The days were pleasantly warm and the sky crispy blue, but the nights were freezing cold.

Dany had been right. The life among sellswords was much different than the practice yard of Winterfell.

The sun had barely risen beyond the horizon when they finally crossed the river. The road looming ahead made Jon uncomfortable. It was a narrow path and not at all suitable for mounted riders. Even worse was the hilly landscape rising to the north and covered with thick forests.

“Why the frown, friend?” Busco asked. ”Do you think someone will jump out of the woods and attack us?”

Jon laughed, trying to hide his apprehension and tightened his grip on his spear. He felt almost like a knight, ready to fight his first enemy.

Prince Rhaegar Targaryen had been known to be a masterful jouster and yet he had failed in the most important battle of his life.

He had lost against Robert Baratheon.

Jon had found little to admire about Robert Baratheon. He had once been a charismatic warrior, but now he spent his days growing fat and consorting with whores. He was not better than Mero.

Prince Rhaegar had been a fool for running away with his mother, but there had to be something good about him.

Why would men die for him? Or had they just fought for the crown?

Such questions were often whirling through his head in these quiet hours of waiting.

“This place is perfect for an ambush,” Tito remarked and flashed Jon an assuring smile. ”But I doubt the brave Dothraki do something like this. The word ambush is foreign to them. They would never hide away from their enemy.”

“Sounds comforting,” Jon replied and forced a smile over his lips. His arse was wound from the ride and he felt the need to stretch his limps, but he knew that was only the beginning of their hardships.

They had traveled for several hours along the narrow road until they had arrived at an elevated ridge overseeing a broad plain-like landscape. It looked as if someone had burned the woods and had left nothing more than scorched earth behind him.

 _The work of the Dothraki horde_ , Tito had explained to him, but Jon had refused to believe it. _Why would they burn all these trees?_

 _To get more ransom_ , Tito had replied, but to Jon, it had appeared a waste. Wood was a precious good to the people of the North, but it seemed the Dothraki didn’t share their beliefs.

Yet, that was only a small part of the devastation left by the Dothraki horde. A day later, Jon and the other recruits were separated into smaller scouting teams.

Half a day, they had ridden and had passed one devasted village after another. There they had found burned fields, bloated corpses, and bloody heads decorating pikes.

The sight had made Jon sick, though he had tried his best to hide his discomfort from the other recruits.

Now and then they had also found women and children, wandering aimlessly through the landscape, their eyes filled with madness and grief.

“Curse them!” Tito exclaimed when they found the corpse of a woman, her legs and head missing and arranged in some strange manner. ”May the Great Shepard banish their souls to the darkest pit of hell.”

Afterward, Busco said nothing as they made camp and lay down to sleep in the desolated ruins of the town. At night they could hear the whispering of the wind blowing through the collapsed wooden palisades that once surrounded this dwelling.

“These Dothraki are exceptional bloody,” muttered Vhraesi, the leader of their scouting team. He hailed from Norvos and was a veteran of war. It was hard to guess his age, but his hair was completely grey and his face riddled with scars as if someone had pushed needles deep into his bare skin. ”It seems a khalasar chose a new Khal.”

“What has the choice of a new Khal to do with all this bloodshed?”

“Whenever a new Khal is chosen they try to establish their reputation. It seems this one wants a bloody one. Every khalasar is different, but you never know what goes through the mind of a Dothraki.”

The man’s words gave Jon much to ponder until he finally fell asleep. The bright sunlight woke him mercilessly and by midday they had made it back to the camp located on the ridge.

“Finally!” their leader gasped and stroked his beard. ”The Stormcrows found us.”

They counted only five-hundred men, but their equipment proved much better. Both men and horses were equipped with proper armor.

Their commanders were also more agreeable than Mero. None one of them bedecked themselves in comforts above the men serving beneath them.

They even drank with the fresh recruits, but Jon was sure it was done out of pure amusement.

Yet, it gave Jon the possibility to get a look at their allies.

There were three joint commanders leading the Stormcrows. Daario Naharis, the first joint-commander, was a strangely-looking man with a bright blue beard, his clothing far too bright for a mercenary. Yet, he seemed to enjoy the trust of his men and Jon couldn’t find any fault in him other than his strange appearance. The second joint commander was a man named Sallor the Bald, who sported a twisting scar on his right cheek. Apart from his tendency to pick his nose he spoke very little and poured down one cup after another. The third joint commander was called Prendahl and hailed from Ghiscar.

The watered wine flowed that night, but Jon stopped at the third cup.

“You are rather pale around the face, green boy,” Daario Naharis remarked and pointed his blade at Jon. ”Is the pisswater wine too much for you?”

Jon forced a smile over his lips and shrugged his shoulders.

“Seeing these smelling corpses the Dothraki left for us taints even the best wine,” Jon replied and earned himself a chuckle.

“True, but that is only the beginning,” Daario replied and refilled his cup, his eyes still fixed on Jon. ”You are not from Essos, are you, green boy? Your accent is rather strange.”

“I hail from the Westeros… the North,” he replied vaguely.

Daario’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Westeros,” Daario repeated. ”What brings a boy from Westeros all the way to Essos?”

“An adventurous spirit,” Jon replied vaguely, but Busco decided to piss into his broth.

“Oh, come on, Jon!” his friend exclaimed and patted his shoulder. ”Tell him about your heroic tale.”

“Heroic tale?” Daario asked in amusement and stroked his blue beard. ”Oh, please tell me about your heroic tale. I am terribly bored. This is an order, by the way..”

“I only obey Mero,” Jon rebuffed him.

Daario laughed, but Busco told him anyway.

“Jon’s wife is an escaped courtesan from Volantis,” his companion explained. “Jon helped her to get away. A noble deed isn’t it?”

Daario’s mocking smile vanished and was exchanged with an almost serious expression.

“My mother was a whore,” he said and raised his cup back to his lips. ”She was a pretty woman and drank herself to death. These slavers employ us, but that doesn’t mean they are my friends. I wish the Dothraki would raid their cities instead of providing them with fresh meat.”

Jon couldn’t help but smile. Perhaps Daario Naharis was a better man than his odd appearance led on.

“I think that is something we can agree on.”

…


	17. Dany

**Dany**

The crowd of people flocking to the Temple of Light was astounding. The great variety of people surprised Dany even more. She spotted men in all known skin colors, ranging from the darkest black to pale silk.

Dany stood out among them. Her dress was painted in a brownish-red color while the other followers wore crimson robes. Mella had offered to give Dany one of her robes, but she had declined politely. She liked Mella, but she had no intention to become a follower of her god.

Yet, Mella had been able to convince her to visit the Temple of Light again. Dany didn’t know why she agreed, but perhaps it was the need to see other people.

Three moons ago, Jon had left to join the Second Sons on a campaign to Qohor. What the campaign entailed she didn’t know, she hoped that he would return in time to hold his child in his arms.

She hadn’t known that she was with child, but then she also knew it was the right thing to support Jon in his ambitions. They had dire need of the coin.

Jon had been working hard, but it had barely been enough to pay the rent. Dany had offered her translation services to the neighbors, but the merchants and higher-standing Braavosi had no need of someone like her. They all had scribes of Braavosi descent.

“You look a bit pale around the nose, child,” Mella remarked, as they climbed up the many steps leading to the Temple of Light. ”Is this child of yours giving you problems?”

“No,” she replied and smiled. “But the constant kicking is driving me mad.”

Malla returned her smile and helped her climb up the last steps. ”Then I am sure it will be a boy.”

Dany didn’t know what to make of her prediction. It was a mystery to her how kicking could be considered an indication for a male child.

“How do you know?” she asked, as they crossed the large courtyard, leading to an arched entrance, flanked by two large torches made of iron. The flames were roaring and two acolytes in crimson robes were singing songs. ”You have three girls.”

Malla laughed again and put her arm around Dany’s shoulder.

“True,” she agreed. ”But my mother was a midwife. Whenever a child was particularly active in the womb it turned out to be a boy. But you are right. Mara was a strong kicker as well and my prediction turned out to be false. Sadly, I am not a high priestess. I cannot read the flames.”

“Do you think they can really foresee the future?” Dany asked.

“Some can,” Malla replied and led her into a long hall, lightened by numerous torches. Another staircase followed. The steps were made of marble as black as ink and the flames reflected on the surface looked like stars. ”I am sure about it.”

Dany still had her doubts, but she also recalled the high priestess in Volantis. She had warned her and her predictions had turned out to be right.

At the entrance, to the sanctuary of the temple, they were greeted by two young acolyte girls. When she took a closer look she recognized Hadi beneath the red markings she had applied to her beautiful face.

Dany wanted to greet her, but Malla covered her mouth and led her deeper into the temple. Like the other followers, they receive each a small candle before they were allowed to pass into the large hall housing the sanctuary of the temple.

The sight of the sanctuary made Dany gasp like the first time. On a raised stone pedestal stood a massive cup of roaring flames rising into the night sky above.

An uncountable number of stars twinkled down on her through the open dome. The sheer beauty of it made her forget about her discomfort.

“I told,” Mella whispered and pulled her along. ”But now we have to be silent or the God of Light will not hear our pleas.”

Obediently, Dany followed after Mella. They sat in the middle of the great hall, right next to the large stone pillar made of black marble. Dany could see herself in the shiny stone. It looked as if a veil of moonlight was falling around her shadowed face.

Then the ceremony began. About a hundred acolytes accompanied two high priestesses leading a procession to the burning cup. The two high priestesses were beautiful beyond compare. Both were tall, their pale faces unblemished by time and dressed in flowing silks of crimson. The acolytes wore simpler clothing and their hair was mostly shaved.

The song of the high priestesses was soothing to the ear, almost like a lullaby. It had an almost hypnotizing effect.

It took all her concentration to understand the meaning of the song, as the verses were spoken in a rather old dialect of High Valyrian.

_You are in my heart, God of Light!_

_There is no other who knows you,_

_Only your loyal children, who you have taught your might._

_Those on earth come from your hand as you made them._

_When you have dawned they live._

_When you set they die;_

_You yourself are lifetime, one lives by you._

_All eyes are on your beauty until you set._

_All labor ceases when you rest in the west;_

_Your light banishes away the darkness._

_Your children pray to thee,_

_Protect us from harm and the false gods._

_Shine a light and lead us through the darkness._

_For the night is dark and full of terrors!_

“For the night is dark and full of terrors!” the voices of the followers echoed through the hall. Dany felt a shiver running down her spine as they continued their chanting.

_The false gods_ , she thought and wondered what they would think of Jon’s gods. _Why do they need protection from false gods?_

Yet, she also understood the appeal of the God of Light, as her gaze wandered over the assembled crowd. Most people here came from humble backgrounds, their clothing dirty and ragged. Many sported faded slave marks and others were beggars hailing from the poorest parts of the city.

The truth was, the God of Light made no difference between poor and rich men. He took and gave as he pleased. It was no wonder that the poor and desolate were flocking to him like sheep, though Dany was sure that some of them only came to receive a warm meal.

Two times a week, they offered warm soup and freshly-baked bread to the hungry of the city. Today was not ay different and Mella convinced her to eat with them.

“Come, child,” Mella said and pulled her along towards a group of women. Dany noticed that nearly all of them showed faded tattoos, marking them as pleasure slaves. ”I want to introduce you to my friends.”

“Sisters,” Mella greeted them and graced one of the women with a soft smile. ”I hope you don’t mind if bring a friend to join us.”

“Of course not,” the woman replied. She had black leathery skin, her grey hair kept in a long braid falling to her waist. ”Be welcome, sister,” she added, her eyes flickering to Dany’s neck. Today had decided not to wear a shawl because Mella had told her that the other women would see it as an insult.

“Where do you hail from, child?” another woman asked. She was much younger than Mella, her hair pale like Dany’s.

Dany swallowed hard.

“I can’t remember…I was very young when they captured me. I served in Volantis and later I was brought to Westeros. Now I am here.”

Her story earned her stunned looks.

“You must be blessed by R’hllor,” one of the younger women said. Her hair was red like crimson and her eyes blue.

“Maybe,” Dany replied politely, though their curious looks made her uncomfortable. ”I hope so.”

“Here,” said the young girl with the red hair and handed her a wooden bowl. It was filled with soup, made of herbs and meat. It was not much, but for the beggars of this city it was a fine meal. ”Eat. You look thin.”

The rest of the night passed quickly, as each of the girls continued to entertain her with their tales of woe. Dany was surprised how openly they spoke about it, but she also noticed the bitterness hidden behind their smiles.

Compared to them Dany had a comfortable life. She had never lacked proper food and her Mistress had never hurt her. Only her life in the North had been hard, but her time there was too short to leave a lasting memory on her mind. She had almost forgotten about by now.

It was past midnight when they made their way back to their residence, the stars and the moon lightening their way.

Few people could be seen on the streets and thus the two men, garbed in rich velvet cloaks stood out to her like a sore thumb. That their faces were hidden by the hoods of their cloaks only added to her feeling of discomfort.

The cobbled street was broad enough, but the two men walked straight towards them.

“Whore!” one of them cursed and spit into Mella’s face. ”Your Master should have cut off your legs and fed you to the crows. A slave should know his place.”

Mella didn’t move. Her gaze was unyielding as she brushed the spittle from her cheek.

“You will come to rue your deeds, whore!” the other man added loudly. Then they were gone, swallowed by the darkness.

Dany froze and searched her companion’s face.

Mella was calm, though her features betrayed anger. It seemed as if this was not the first time this had happened to her.

“Child,” Mella said after a moment of silence had passed between them. ”Do you care for a cup of tea?”

“Tea?” Dany asked in surprise. ”Now?”

“We shouldn't take our usual route home,” Mella explained and pulled on Dany’s arm. ”Come…I know a nearby tavern.”

“Who were _these_ rude men?” Dany asked after they had sat down at a table near the entrance.

“ _Brutes_ …they work for the slave masters,” Mella explained, her face guarded and her hand resting on her amulet.

”The slaver masters bribe them to harass escaped slaves and those who campaign against their dirty business. I am one of these people and that is why they insulted me.”

Dany nodded her head in understanding.

“But isn’t slavery forbidden in Braavos?”

Mella chuckled and patted Dany’s shoulders. “Of course it is, but he Iron Bank still does business with the merchants and noble lords and ladies of the Slaver Cities. Many have their vaults here. It is no secret, though there are some fractions in this city who dislike this fact.”

This roused Dany’s curiosity.

„Who?“

Mella brushed her hair out of her face and took a sip from her cup. “Well, loudest among them is certainly Tormo Fregar. Some say he is also aiming to become the next Sealord.”

Dany smiled. “And do you think that would change matters for the better?”

Mella shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps, but Tormo Fregar is only one man. He shows great passion for his cause, but that doesn’t mean he would be able to convince others to go to war with the Slaver Cities. Braavosi might be fond of their freedom, but that doesn’t mean they would fight a war without gain. Business is business.”

“And that is really the sole reason these men insulted you?” Dany asked. “They act as if they know you very well.”

“The women you saw,” Mella explained. “We gather money to smuggle escaped slaves to Braavos. Our initiative is founded by the Iron Bank.”

“The Iron Bank?” Dany asked in disbelief. ”They are giving you money to smuggle slaves?”

Mella chuckled and took another sip from her cup of tea.

“They are not doing it out of goodwill,” she explained. ”But one of my friends serves the wife of Tycho Nestoris. She is one of us, though she hails from a very old family that had once resided behind the Black Walls of Volantis. Her father fell victim to a political scandal and was disinherited. Downtrodden and penniless he had no other choice but to sell himself and his daughter into slavery. She never told my friend how she ended up as Tycho Nestoris wife, but they say she was very beautiful in her youth. Anyway, her husband funds our initiative. I don’t think I have to say that the slavers are not happy about our actions and thus they are employing brutes to disparage our cause.”

“That sounds foul,” Dany said. ”Someone should report them to the city guard.”

“True,” Mella added and placed her cup of tea back on the wooden table. ”But while slavery is a crime, holding a view that supports slavery is not forbidden. And we have no proof.”

“So _we_ can do nothing against them?” she asked.

“ _We_?” Mella asked, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. ”Do you want to join us? Are you not afraid?”

“I am not afraid,” Dany assured her. ”I can read and write High Valyrian and several other languages and dialects…Could that be of use to you?”

Mella’s eyes widened in surprise.

“You can read and write High Valyrian?”

“Aye,” she confirmed proudly.

Mella smiled and patted her shoulder.

“I think you could be of help to us.”

…


	18. Ned

**Ned**

Ned had been half asleep when Vayon Poole had roused him from his slumber and had informed him that King Robert was calling for him. Thus, Ned had dressed quickly in his finery and had brushed his hair to his best abilities. It was bad enough that the southron lords were laughing about him behind his back.

When Ned entered the room he found everyone waiting for him. The men that had assembled here were no friends of his, but Robert trusted them and he was the king.

There was Lord Varys, garbed in long billowing robes of pink. He smelled of flowers as if he had just crawled forth from a brothel, though his high voice made it quite clear that he was the only man in this damned city who had no need for a whore.

Beside him was Lord Renly Baratheon, who was dressed in colorful robes of gold-and-black, the colors of his house. He looked like Robert in his youth: broad-shoulders, thick black hair and blue eyes like summer most maidens dreamed about. Well, most maidens, but not his sister.

Ser Barristan, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard stood a good distance from the rest, his cloak as white as his beard. He had given Ned a strange look upon his entrance.

Grand Maester Pycelle was also staring at him, a feather in hand, and a plank parchment spread before him on the table. Standing behind him was Littlefinger, who was obviously pretending that he was reading over the non-existing scribbling of the old Grand Maester.

“There you are, Ned,” Robert grumbled and waved his hand at the gold cloaks standing before the second entrance. “You must hear this…You won’t believe it!”

Ned was confused. “Believe what?”

“You will see,” Robert said and waved his hand at gold cloaks again. “What are you waiting for, you fools? Bring Mormont here!”

Ned gasped in shock when he saw Ser Jorah Mormont entering the room.

He hadn’t changed much. His head was still bare and there were a handful of grey strands visible in his dark beard. The beautiful, blond-haired lady at his side seemed almost out of place.

It reminded him of this southron song Robert liked so much. _The Bear and the Maiden Fair._

Mormont’s and Ned’s gaze met before his grey eyes flickered to the King. Mormont bowed deeply and the lady beside him dropped a curtsy. There was no doubt…this lady was Lady Lynesse Hightower, Ser Jorah’s wife, for whom he had sold his people into slavery.”

“Your grace,” Mormont said. “It is a great honor to be in your presence.”

“Keep your pleasantries to yourself, Mormont,” Robert grumbled impatiently. “Tell us about your findings.”

Mormont nodded his head and pointed at his lady. “My lady is the one who made these findings. It is for her to tell the tale.”

Robert gave a quick nod. “Then, I urge you to speak, my lady.”

“Certainly, your grace,” the lady replied sweetly. “For my findings might be of interest to you…It seems Princess Daenerys Targaryen is still alive. My former master, the Old Tiger as he is known by everyone in Volantis, tried to wed her in secret to his grandson.”

Robert was listening with rap attention, his hands holding unto the table before him. “Tried? So, it did not happen?”

“No, your grace,” the lady replied. “There was a lady in the Old Tiger’s home, who grew jealous of Princess Daenerys and convinced one of the servants to sell her at the slave market.”

“But I assume this is not the end of this colorful tale?” Littlefinger asked and stroked his goatee beard. “You risked much by coming here with your disgraced husband.”

Jorah Mormont clenched his teeth, but the lady beside him remained calm.

“It is not,” the lady replied. “There is more. My husband can tell you all about it…he knows where the Princess can be found.”

Robert looked over to Mormont. “Well then, Mormont. Tell us, where the _dragonspawn_ is hiding.”

“I have heard through the grapevine that the girl was sold to a man from Westeros…a man I am very familiar with. He claimed she was the prettiest whore he had ever seen…silver hair and purple eyes, like the Targaryens of old.”

“Or just some pillow girl from Lys,” Ser Barristan Selmy added tensely. Ned didn’t know him well, but it seemed his past allegiances were catching up with him. Yet, Ned knew it to be true, for he had seen this girl with his own eyes. “Many of them have silver hair and purple eyes.”

The old knight’s remark made Littlfinger chuckle. Renly Baratheon seemed also deeply amused by the remark, for he was covering his mouth with the backside of his hand.

“Who would have thought that Ser Barristan Selmy would know so much about pillow girls?” Littlefinger asked and earned himself another round of laughter.

“Silence!” Robert roared, his gaze still fixed on Mormont. Ned shuddered, his knuckles turning white, as he grabbed the table beneath him. He felt cold and hot, all at once. There was also a distant pounding in his head. “I want to hear what Mormont has to say about the _dragonspawn_.”

Mormont cleared his throat and exchanged a tense look with his lady wife, who was pulling on his arm. “I don’t know everything, but the man claimed he sold her to a man from the North…a man I am familiar with due to my past. I think you know all about it, your grace.”

A moment of tense silence followed and Ned decided now was his turn to speak. “One of your friends from old times I assume? Well, isn’t that a rather convenient tale…How did you and your lady wife come about this information? I doubt the Old Tiger told you about his secret plot.”

“He did not, lord Stark,” Lady Lynesse replied sharply. “But I was the Young Tiger’s whore for many years. He bragged about it day and night while he was forcing himself on me, namely that he would wed a Princess of the old blood. As for my husband…he found out by accident. We might sound desperate, your grace, but after Jorah had saved me from my master we had neither money nor shelter. So, we went to see his old friend and all came together. Thus, we decided to bring this matter to the attention of our king to prove our loyalty. Jorah made a misstep in the past, but he has always served his grace loyally and spent many years in exile. Surely, that is _enough_ punishment?”

It had taken much of Ned’s willpower to remain silent while this lady was continuing to spread her many lies.

“Your husband should have lost his head for his crimes,” Ned replied coldly. “He sold my people into slavery.”

Then, Ned looked over to Robert. “Do not believe, Mormont. He is just desperate to escape his crimes.”

Robert’s cheeks were flushed, as he searched Mormont’s face once more.

“The North is a big place,” Robert said to Ned’s horror. “To whom did your friend sell _this_ girl?”

Mormont looked directly at Ned when he answered. “To a man in Wintertown…I know him well because he bought some girls from me in the past. May the gods forgive me.”

“You are suddenly so pale, Lord Stark,” Lord Varys remarked sweetly. “It seems you know more than we thought possible?”

“Of course he _knows_!” Robert roared and slammed his fist on the table, his bright blue eyes seeking Ned’s face across the table. “Ned is stubborn, but he is no fool. It must be the _whoreson_ you killed…and the girl…the _dragonspawn_ has been hiding there right before our nose. It _must_ be the one that ran off with your bastard!”

Ned’s blood froze. He could barely open his mouth, as all eyes in the room were fixed on him now. Ser Barristan’s mouth was wide open, Lord Renly was watching him intently and the old Grand Maester was moving his head left and right, as if didn’t quite understand what was going on.

“Your bastard?” Littlefinger asked in confusion. “Ran off with a Targaryen? This tale is getting more interesting by every passing moment…” he trailed off.

“The boy might have been fooled by the _dragonspawn_ ’s beauty,” Robert deduced. “What do you think, Ned?”

Ned sucked in a deep breath and shook his head. “I cannot say. I wasn’t even aware that it could be _her_ …Still, Robert. Perhaps this is all just a _misunderstanding_ …,” he stuttered, but Robert wanted to hear none of it.

“ _Misunderstanding_?” Robert asked in utter disbelief. “I know you dislike Mormont, but his lady is not wrong. Ser Jorah served me well during the Greyjoy rebellion and lying wouldn’t be to his advantage.”

“I agree with my brother,” Lord Renly Baratheon added and eyed Ned curiously. “We must investigate this matter…especially with a powerful man like the Old Tiger involved in it. Who knows what kind of a plot has been avoided by a concubine’s jealousy?”

“Lord Renly speaks true,” the Grand Maester added softly, nodding his head like one of these small dogs the ladies of the capital liked so much. “Do you know where your bastard is, Lord Stark?”

Ned gritted his teeth. He didn’t know what to answer. Of course, he had sent word to Lord Manderly to inquire about Jon’s whereabouts.

And he couldn’t lie either. It could endanger everyone he loved.

He had to give Robert something, but not everything. “Lord Manderly wrote to me recently. He said the boy took a ship from White Harbour. He said there was a girl with him.”

“And how did Lord Manderly know it was your bastard?” asked Lord Renly.

“The wolf…Jon has a wolf,” Ned replied hesitatingly. One wrong step and he would be dead. “They supposedly took a ship to Volantis.”

“Of course,” Robert growled once more. “The _dragonspawn_ must have convinced your boy to get her back so she can open her legs to the Old Tiger’s brood. See, I always told you that this war will never end until the last _dragonspawn_ is dead.”

“Listen to what you are saying, friend,” Ned said and hardened his voice. “You are speaking of murdering a child, who might not even be aware of who she is. I spoke to her…she seemed as innocent as a maid.”

“Of course someone like you would be fooled by the sweetness of the _dragonspawn_ ,” Robert snarled. “But I know what these Targaryens are capable of. Remember what Rhaegar Targaryen did to your sister!”

“Don’t bring Lyanna into this,” Ned countered. “Daenerys Targaryen was not even born when my sister was taken. Hold your grudge against Rhaegar, but do not drag me into this. I will not help you murder a girl to satisfy your bloodlust…Lyanna is gone and no amount of bloodshed will bring her back to life.”

When Ned had ended, a strange kind of silence settled over the room. Robert was staring back at him in anger, his fist clenched and resting on the table. His face was crimson and a vein was showing around his neck.

“Daenerys Targaryen is not just a girl,” Lord Renly Baratheon added calmly. Ned didn’t know why, but he felt the sudden urge to strangle him. “She is almost ten and six, isn’t she? Probably flowered and ready to pup little dragons. Perhaps your bastard is only the first one…,” Lord Renly was about to continue, but Robert had slammed his fist on the table, thus silencing his brother.

“Enough of your rambling, Renly,” Robert said and searched Ned’s gaze. “I leave it to you to take care of your son, but I want the girl’s head.”

Ned shook his head in disbelief. “Are you even listening to yourself, Robert? How can you be so afraid of a mere child? You…a king. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”

“Ashamed?” Robert asked with suppressed anger. It was clear that he was holding back. “Aren’t you ashamed to besmirch your sister’s memory by siding with the _dragonspawn_?”

“Lyanna would never condone the killing of an innocent girl,” Ned insisted. “You may have been betrothed to my sister, but I knew her better than you. By murdering this girl it is you who would besmirch my sister’s memory.”

“Besmirch her memory?” Robert asked in disgust, his breathing labored. “I was the one who avenged her! And I shall see it through!”

“Calm yourself, brother,” Lord Renly added and patted Robert’s shoulder. “It is not good for your health. And I am sure Lord Stark is only fearing for his son…as he is sadly involved in this _dragonspawn_ matter.”

“I agree,” Lord Varys added. “Surely, with Ser Jorah’s help and with Lord Stark’s information I will be able to find the girl and get rid of her.”

Robert finally calmed. “You have my agreement, Varys. Find the girl and do not disappoint me again.”

Ned knew this would mean not only the end for the girl but also Jon. He spoke up, though it was utter madness.

“No,” Ned interrupted. “I will not stand by like the last time…when you allowed Tywin to get away with his butchery. Listen, Robert, I know a way to settle this matter peacefully. I beg you, hear me out.”

Robert’s face was still red, but he allowed Ned to speak.

“Speak.”

“Let there be _peace_. Allow me to bring the girl and my son to Winterfell. I doubt Jon was aware of her identity, but he must see something good in the girl if he saved her life. I can watch and guard them. The girl nor any child of hers will ever get close to your throne. I swear it, on the life of my children! Let there be _peace_ at last!”

“ _Peace_ ,” Robert grumbled dangerously. Ned had never seen him like this. He appeared like a volcano, ready to erupt at any moment. “There can be no _peace_ with House Targaryen after they took Lyanna from me. The girl needs to die and should your boy not step aside, I shall forget that he is of _your_ blood!”

“ _Peace_ is indeed a wonderful thing,” Lord Varys added softly. “But to protect the throne we must act with reason.”

“I agree with Lord Varys,” Lord Renly added. He sounded like a child, easily condemning others to death. Ned felt hot anger burst through him. _To think that I have to explain myself to this pit of vipers._ “The girl herself might not pose a danger, but any son of hers could stir up the Targaryen loyalists to rebellion.”

Ser Barristan seemed just as conflicted as Ned. “I think we should consider Lord Stark’s proposal. _Peace_ is possible, I think. And if not, you can still take up your warhammer and face your enemy like you have done before your grace.”

Littlfinger chuckled. “It seems you and lord Stark are of a similar mind, Ser Barristan. But I have to agree with the King in this matter. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Ned had never felt more disappointment when he looked at Robert, his hand touching the silver pin on his chest, holding his silken cloak in place. He pulled it off and put the silver pin on the table. “Whatever your plans, I shall have no part in them, Robert! I overlooked your past missteps, but I won’t look away now! Mayhaps one of your vipers will serve you better than myself! I am going home!”

When Ned returned to his solar, he cold still hear Robert’s angry voice echoing in his ears.

_You damn fool! Go back to Winterfell…back to your frozen castle and damn honor! But be warned…Bring that Targaryen whore into your home and I shall burn down Winterfell and make you watch as I kill the dragonspawn with my own hands!”_

Ned’s breathing was still labored, as he leaned his back against the door. His head was aching and he felt a strange feeling of desperation taking hold of him.

How could it have come to this? How?

“My Lord,” he heard Vayon Poole’s voice ringing in his ears. “You look as pale as parchment.”

“I am well enough,” Ned replied and looked around. The solar was empty. “Where are my daughters?”

“Lady Sansa is in her room with Jeyne and the Septa,” he replied. “And Lady Arya is with her dancing master. Do you want me to call upon them?”

“No,” Ned replied and went over to the wooden table. A flagon of wine stood there and a cup. He was trembling, but the sweet liquid helped to calm his mind, giving him time to think. “Leave them at peace.”

 _A fragile peace_ , he thought and pondered his next step. He knew he had to leave King’s Landing as soon as possible. Robert wouldn’t forget this, but then Ned didn’t think him stupid enough to kill him or his daughters. And there was Jon and the girl…Princess Daenerys Targaryen, if Mormont’s words had any truth to them. Not that it would matter to Robert. It seemed as if he had grown frightful of the ghosts Ned had thought long buried. One of them was Rhaegar Targaryen, the fool that had thrown the realm into a bloody war. Lyanna had sworn that his love had been true, but had also asked for Brandon and Rickard. The men of the Kingsguard must have left her in the dark or so Ned believed, but she had known about the death of Princess Elia and her children. And with her last breath, she had begged him to protect her son.

Ned’s thoughts went back to the past, all the impressions of the last moons washing over him. The realm was torn between the lions and the stags. Robert’s debts were overwhelming and the vipers were whispering into his ears, blinding him to the truth.

 _No_ , Ned realized and brushed his hand over his face. _The Robert I knew is gone._

The thought made him sad. Perhaps this was his punishment for hiding away in the North for so long.

He had allowed Tywin to poison Robert. Perhaps Ned could have avoided it, but he had been tired of war and bloodshed...

 _It is all wrong_ , he thought and noticed to his shock that Vayon Poole had been joined by Jory.

They were watching him with great concern.

“Are you well, my lord?” Vayon Poole inquired once more. “Should we call upon the Maester?”

“I have no need for a master,” Ned replied and placed the cup back on the nearby table. He was trembling. “I have a task for Jory…you must find Jon.”

Jory stared back at him in disbelief. “My lord?”

“You must find Jon,” Ned repeated. “You must find Jon and this girl…Princess Daenerys Targaryen.”

They all stared back at him as if he had grown a second head.”

“I am not jesting,” Ned replied. “This girl…it seems she was a Targaryen, sold as a pillow girl. The King is planning to kill her and knowing Jon he will not side idle when Robert’s butchers come for them.”

Jory paled. “Of course…silver hair and purple eyes. My lord, this is _utter_ madness.”

“Perhaps,” Ned agreed. “But you must find Jon. I do not know where he went, but rumor has it that he went to Braavos. It shouldn’t be so hard to find a boy with a white wolf. I know it is much I ask of you, but it is the only way…I would go myself if I could, but I have no other choice. Will you do as I ask of you?”

“What if the King finds out?” asked Vayon Poole fearfully. “This would be as if declaring war upon our former allies.”

“War is brewing anyway,” Ned replied and nodded his head. “Which is why you must take Arya and Sansa to safety on the morrow. I shall stay a while longer…to keep up appearances. I will try to appeal to the King once more.”

“Take men you can trust, Jory,” Ned told the young man and patted his shoulder. “And go tonight. I shall give you coin.”

“You have my promise,” Jory replied, but Ned tightened his grip on his shoulder. “Your oath!”

Jory lowered his head and knelt. “My oath…written in blood if need be.”

Ned exhaled deeply.

“Good. And may the gods be with you.”

…


	19. Jon

**Jon**

Their vanguard consisted of eighty riders. Around twenty of them belonged to the Stormcrows, but the rest belonged to the Second Sons. Their leader was Vhraesi or the Old Man as the other recruits called him.

“I can see something!” the shout of his companion called Jon back to the present. He was from Pentos, but his name escaped him. ”Camp ahead!”

Jon narrowed his gaze against the sunlight. It took a moment, but then he finally saw it. Sprawling behind a cliffy landscape he saw tents, lines of horses and plumes of back smoke.

“Lower your voice, fool!” Vhraesi snapped at the young man. ”They must have put up sentries.”

“Of course,” the young man replied and lowered his head. “Understood.”

“What are we going to do now, old man?” asked Red Axe. He belonged to the Stormcrows and thought himself above green recruits like them.

“Simple,” Vhraesi whispered to them. ”I will send two men to scout the camp. I need to know where they keep their baggage carts and horses. Then we will put them on fire and lure the horde along our chosen path. Is that understood?”

His question was confirmed by mutters and soon two men were chosen to fulfil the task.

The hours of waiting that followed were bad and even after their companions had returned Jon’s fear did not ease.

“Ready?” Vhraesi asked as they were moving towards the pale hills curling around the Dothraki camp. Near the outskirts of the camp, Jon spotted several hundred horses and carts packed with food and other belongings.

“Ready!” Jon answered in unison with the others and tightened his grip on the reins of his horse. They moved slowly, the rising sun painting the sky in pink light.

When they finally reached the end of the pale hills, they lit their torches. Their companions had found no sentries in this direction and thus it was unlikely that the Dothraki would be able to see them.

“All will be well,” he heard Tito’s assuring voice and felt the touch of his hand on his shoulder. ”It is quite clear that they had a victory celebration. They will all be drunk. Marli said so.”

Marli was one of the two men that had been chosen to scout for sentries. He was a Sheepmen like Tito, but very quiet compared to his chatty kinsman.

“Victory celebration?” Jon asked, keeping his voice intentionally low. ”They butchered an entire village and dismembered men and women alike. Why the celebrations?”

“Don’t try to make sense of barbarians…it is no use,” Tito replied and straightened himself in his saddle.

Tito’s prediction turned out to be true. Nobody was there to stop them, as they descended upon the baggage carts and horses. A handful of men stood guard, armed with nothing more than their famous curved blades. They were barely able to raise their swords before they were rolled over.

They threw their torches unto the carts while the other men did their best to drive the horses apart.

Soon, the flames were rising higher and higher, the camp slowly coming to life into the sky. Jon heard shouts behind him, the language foreign to his ears, but they did not linger for long. They burned another row of baggage carts before wheeling their horses around and urging them back to their chosen path.

Jon did not dare to look back, as he kicked his horse into a fast gallop. He feared to find a horde of horsemen ready to crush him.

Instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the distant horizon, his eyes already burning from the dust and smoke.

Jon was relieved when he spotted the blurry outlines of their camp, the armour and shields of their men shining brightly in the midday sun.

They had spent two days fortifying the ridge with two wooden forts, ditches, and sharpened stakes, but Jon felt that all their effort paled in comparison to the might of the Dothraki horde.

 _Around twenty-thousand men, women and children_ , Tito had estimated their numbers. _That means around fifteen-thousand riders._

Jon had swallowed hard when he had heard this, but like the others, he had tried to keep up an appearance of indifference.

Together the Second Sons and the Stormcrows counted only three-thousand men. No wonder the payment was so high.

_I should have known better._

“Did you lose men?” Commander Mero demanded to know from Vhraesi before he was even able to dismount from his horse. About ten of their men had split from their group earlier to watch out for the Dothraki horde.

Vhraesi was confident that they would follow their trails.

Their high position gave them an advantage as well, but they were still vastly outnumbered.

“No,” Vhraesi replied at last. “All riders made it back. We can continue with our plans.”

“The archers are ready,” Daario added, garbed in full armour, his blue hair hidden under his helmet. “Sallor knows what to do. I hope your men know it as well.”

Mero frowned and straightened himself. It was not hard to deduce that the two of them held little love for each other.

“Do you question my men’s abilities?”

“Of course not, Commander,” Daario replied mockingly.

“I hope for you that we have enough arrows,” Vhraesi interrupted a hint of frustration visible on his lined face. ”We found a large horde and our quarrels can be settled after the battle is fought.”

Mero huffed.

“Stop instructing me and prepare your men, old man. If this battle goes wrong, we will all die.”

Then, he made his way back to his shiny tent.

Vhraesi and the other sub-commanders did as they were told and prepared for battle. Blades were oiled, a handful more stakes were put into the ground and soon each man took his assigned position.

Jon carried a shield, a spear and his sword. Only a few hundred of their men remained mounted and formed the rear-guard. Most of them belonged to the Stormcrows, their heavy armour the best protection against the approaching enemy and about half of these men formed a shield wall spreading over the ridge.

Behind the shield wall sat men, each armed with a longbow. The rest of the archers were placed at the flanks and protected by stakes, about a third of them armed with longbows and other shorter-range weapons.

The longbow, made of yew, was a difficult weapon to handle because it demanded both strength and practice. Jon had observed the training of the archers and had realized soon enough that every single one of them was an experienced warrior. He had found only three green boys among them, all of them buff and strong like bears.

“Jon!” Tito whispered and patted his shoulder. ”Can you hear them?”

Jon nodded his head. It sounded like rolling thunder, but even this terrifying sound was soon drowned out by the ear-bleeding cries of the Dothraki horde.

 _The Golden Horde_.

Jon tightened his grip on his spear and kept his shield up. He felt the sudden urge to flee, as the first horses stormed up the ridge and towards the raised pikes.

Jon, who was placed in the back rows did not see much of them but heard the cries of horses and men alike. Gritting his teeth, he lowered his shield to throw his spear at the approaching wave of enemies. Jon did not see where his spear landed, but he saw several riders being impaled by a spear or being catapulted from their saddles.

They lifted their shields once more, as the next wave approached.

Again, the might of the Dothraki cavalry collided with the shield wall, pushing them backwards. Jon gasped for air, sweat running down his temples. Before him he saw only shields and above his head, he heard the snapping of arrows.

 _This is utter madness_ , he thought as this procedure. _How did the Dothraki train their horses to run into raised pikes?_

Hours passed and no end was in sight. The shield wall stood strong, but the first rows were thinning while the heaps of corpses grew higher and higher. It way long past evening when the sound of snapping arrows ceased, and the reserve was sent towards the approaching enemy.

Their heavy armour protected them from the countless Dothraki arrows, but they were still outnumbered.

Jon eyed them with envy. Not because he was longing for the thrill of riding through a horde of barbarians, but because he was slowly suffocating. His body felt numb and he longed to stretch his legs.

Not long after Jon had stopped counting the hours, the enemy suddenly stopped its attack and left.

Jon was stunned and relieved.

The battle was finally over and the ridge below was covered with the corpses and horses alike. The smell was even worse, maggots and flies already festering on the rotting flesh. Some of the Dothraki warriors were still alive, cursing in their foreign tongue.

Yet, they received no mercy. Jon and the other green recruits were tasked to kill the rest of the survivors.

Jon felt only disgust. The Dothraki were barbarians, but there was no honour in giving the enemy the death blow when it was lying on the ground and unable to move.

Yet, that was what Jon had willingly signed up for.

To make it easier he reminded himself of the butchered villages, but it did not give him the same thrill other men liked to boast about whenever they took a man’s life.

Tito was different. He even scoured the heaps of corpses for prominent members of the Dothraki horde. The head of a known Dothraki warrior or a kinsman of a Khal promised additional coin and many a man was prepared to wade through heaps of corpses to get it.

Jon was not such a man. He climbed up a hill and was looking for Ghost. He had chased the wolf away because Vhraesi had feared he might betray their trap.

The night had fallen when Tito returned to join him and Busco. He grinned and emptied his bearskin while Jon continued to watch him with fascination. Ghost was still missing. This morn, Jon had dreamed he was hunting in his wolf’s skin, feasting on white desert rats, soft-skinned things that could grow as fat as a small dog.

“We won a great victory, but you look sullen as ever, friend,” Tito remarked and took a seat next to Jon. ”Now we only need to cash in the promised coin. We didn’t get the Khal leading this khalasar, but several of his kinsmen are among them.”

“How do you know that again?” Busco asked and snorted in disbelief. ”They looked all the same to me.”

“Their bells and war paint reveals their rank,” Tito explained without hesitation.

“I hope you are right,” Jon said and exhaled deeply. ”But it will take several weeks to return to Qohor. Once we leave this position, we are also vulnerable for attack and what you told me about the Dothraki makes me believe that they will return to take revenge for this humiliation.”

“Maybe,” Tito replied hesitatingly. ”But our host is smaller and therefore faster. Once we have crossed the Darwash we should be relatively safe.”

“I see,” Jon replied and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “I see.”

That night he was hunting in Ghost’s skin again. For hours he ran beneath the starry sky until he reached the battlefield, they had abandoned nearly a day ago.

The smell of death lingered in his nose when he lifted his head to the moon.

With the sorrowful howl ringing in his ears, he was roused from his sleep.

Soon after, they mounted their horses once more.

Slowly, they made their way along the narrow path, leading them back to the crossing over the Darkwash.

 _Only two moons_ , Jon thought and brushed his fears away. Due to the wounded men, it took them nearly three days to reach the promised crossing.

Jon felt relief when he saw the dark waters of the Darkwash.

Jon’s enthusiasm dimmed when he realized how much the water had risen since their last crossing weeks ago. Some men tried to lead their horses through the water, but the current was too strong and one of them drowned.

“There is another crossing point a day’s ride away from here,” one of the sergeants informed them and thus their host of men was forced to move further along the river.

Mero pushed them mercilessly, but eventually, the commanders of the Stormcrows put an end to the death march after several of their horses and wounded had perished.

They made camp near a slope of the river. There they used their spears to catch fish while small scores of men were sent out to hunt.

It were these moments, that Jon appreciated Bran’s love for fishing. After several hours of moving along the riverbank, he had caught an impressive amount of fish and was soon roasting them over a sizzling cookfire.

The fish tasted good, but it did not help to fill his stomach.

That night sleep came easier to him. He longed to slip back into Ghost’s skin to fill his belly.

This time, he found himself following along the black river, barely visible in the weak moonlight.

Several times, he dipped his paw into the water, testing how deep it went. Eventually, he found the trampled crossing point they had used.

The cold water was nearly reaching up to his head, as he swam over to the other side. More than once, he feared to drown, but then he finally reached the other side.

Leaving the water behind him, he suddenly smelled something.

The smell was subtle but made his mouth water.

He had found no prey all night and now he smelled a horde of horses.

And then he heard it. The rolling sound of thunder.

 _Horse hooves_ , Jon knew upon his waking and instinctively grabbed for his blade. Tito and Busco were still asleep, but Jon did not hesitate to kick them awake.

“Wake up!” he shouted. “Wake up!”

Busco grumbled, but Tito was quickly on his feet and picked up his spear.

“Can you hear it?” Jon asked his friend, who opened his mouth to speak, his voice drowned out by the cry of the Dothraki riders washing over the camp.

Jon did not waste a single breath and picked up his shield, before making his way back to his horse, bound to a nearby tree. The animal reared in fear, but Jon was still able to climb on its back.

By the time, he was seated in the saddle the camp had descended into complete chaos.

Men scrambled out of their tents and were cut down before they were able to find their weapons.

Jon found himself under attack.

It was a young Dothraki warrior, his curved blade meeting his shield, bringing forth a clinking sound. Jon did not give him a chance to retaliate and buried his blade in the enemy’s horse.

The animal shrieked and Jon ended the man with a cut to his head.

Shortly after, he spotted Busco trying to fight a Dothraki rider on foot, an arrow sticking from his shoulder. The warrior was strong and able, his curved blade cutting Busco open like a pig.

The Dothraki warrior laughed, his numerous bells ringing as he moved his head in Jon’s direction.

Without further hesitation, he wheeled his horse around and pulled out the spear he had put into the ground before going to sleep.

The Dothraki warrior had barely lifted his blade before he was impaled by Jon’s spear and thrown from the back of his horse.

He looked slightly different from other warriors. His braid reached nearly down to his waist and his painted vest accentuated with gold made Jon believe that he must be someone very important.

Yet, Jon had no time to think about this matter further.

A volley of arrows caught him off guard and he was barely able to lift his shield in time.

His horse reared in agony and was thrown from his saddle.

Two arrows had hit his shield and one had lodged itself into his armour, causing a painful feeling in his right shoulder.

When Jon turned around, he noticed twelve Dothraki warriors, their curved blades raised and circling around him.

He tried not to move.

Yet, their eyes were not fixed on Jon, but on the impaled warrior.

Jon waited for the death blow, but the men ignored him and continued to whisper to each other in their foreign tongue.

Instead of continuing to fight, one of the men climbed from his saddle and pulled his dead companion on his horse.

Then they wheeled their horses around and left Jon lying there, the smell of blood still lingering in his nose.

Jon still felt the arrow sticking in his shoulder and fresh blood was running into his eyes.

Carefully, he touched the back of his head and winced in pain.

He must have hit his head when he fell from the horse. Ever slowly, he tried to pull himself on his feet, the world around him starting to spin madly.

A sudden feeling of sickness overwhelmed him in this moment, and he fell back on his knees before emptying his fast on the ground.

He tried to pull himself up before he collapsed again.

The next time he opened his eyes again he was back in Ghost’ skin, feasting on human flesh and horses alike.

…


	20. Ned

**Ned**

Ned found himself surrounded by darkness. He had known that Robert would not harm him but had underestimated his wife Queen Cersei.

_She must have known that Robert would not return from this hunt._

His only consolation was that Sansa and Arya were on a ship and soon far away from King’s Landing.

 _I should have gone with them_ , Ned knew. _I should have left this city the moment I smelled the rot._

Ned didn’t believe the Lannister intended to kill him, but being locked up here for days made it hard to think clearly. The lack of food made it all the harder to think properly about all that had happened.

First, Lya’s boy had fled Winterfell in company of a pillow girl that was supposedly Daenerys Targaryen and then Robert had found out about it through the help of Ser Jorah Mormont.

It was utter madness.

What had Ned done that fate would deal him such a hard blow?

He had always strived to do right by everyone and perhaps that had been the wrong path.

 _I should have stayed in Winterfell_ , he thought again. _I could have stayed in Winterfell to see my wife and children grow old and grey. I only came here to do right by Jon and Robert and what do I get in return?_

_This._

Ned was done with all this nonsense. Should he ever escape this cell, he would not look back and never venture south again.

All he could do was wait in the darkness. Days passed, perhaps weeks, but no news of the world outside reached him in his cell.

The goaler came and went, sometimes whispering to the guardsmen over a cup of wine, but not a word to Ned.

Truly, it was not only the lack of food that was aching at Ned’s mind.

It was the darkness and the dreams that were haunting him every night.

Sometimes, he also dreamed of Lya, her nightgown bloody and her grey eyes watching him from the distance, reminding him of his promise.

_Promise me, Ned._

At other times, he saw Brandon and his father. Brandon was always smiling and dancing with Ashara Dayne. His father was always watching him with these cold Stark eyes, reminding him of his duty.

And in his darkest moments, he believed to see Grand Maester Pycelle or Littlefinger eying him through the bars of his cell like some crippled animal on a fair.

 _At least, my daughters are safe_ , Ned reminded himself again and drifted off to sleep. _These girls are always quarrelling, but they were still sisters._

At least they would not be alone.

It was the clinking of a key, that woke him from his slumber.

The bright light shining directly into his face made him wince painfully.

“My Lord Stark,” said a hated and familiar voice. “I hope you are awake.”

Ned sat up and moved closer towards the bars, the light making him blink.

He covered his eyes with one hand and finally saw Queen Cersei. She wore a dark dress, her golden hair held up in an elaborate braid with a black veil.

_False grief. Jon was too good of a man to see that a Lannister would never submit to a Baratheon._

Robert’s and Cersei’s marriage had been another mistake. Ned had always known that to some extent.

Ned also noticed the displeasure on the Queen’s face, as she covered her nose with a handkerchief.

“You may stay seated, my Lord,” Cersei added quickly. Behind her loomed a man in shining armour, but Ned could not make out his face. “I do want to make this as quick as possible.”

Ned leaned forward, his chains rattling as he moved. “Why in such a hurry? I can scarcely run away.”

Cersei chuckled, but in a cold and bitter way. She was a beautiful woman, but wicked beneath this façade of beauty.

“I didn’t think Eddard Stark is capable of humour,” she said, her lips twisting upwards. Alas, that is not the reason I am here. The truth is, I am here to forge peace on behalf of my son and your King.”

Ned did not believe his ears. It was Cersei who had locked him up and now she was speaking about peace? Only a Lannister could be that proud.

“I have not even been told the reason for my imprisonment,” Ned replied. “Tell me why I was imprisoned and then we may speak about peace.”

“Very well,” Cersei said. “Though I am surprised you were not able to figure that out on your own. You were a danger to my son. I could see that by the moment Robert chose you. The fact, that you were sprouting treason in front of the Small Council made it only easier, though my reasons are of a far more practical manner. I needed a hostage to get my brother back. Your son captured him and the only way I can keep him is by exchanging one life for another.”

“I see,” Ned replied. It seems he was being imprisoned to save the Kingslayer’s life. “But that is not for me to decide, but my son. Knowing Robb he will not be opposed to my return. I doubt he loves his new burdens.”

Cersei grimaced and shook her head. Ned averted his gaze from the heavy smell of lavender oil entering his nose.

“Your return?” Cersei asked. “I think not. You are not to be killed, but you can never be Lord of Winterfell again. Not after sprouting treason right in front of everyone. Robert would have probably forgiven such a slight after enjoying a night with one of his whores, but I am not such a person, and neither is my father. Truth be told, my son wanted to have you killed, but Joff is young and does not always know what is right. Thus, I came here to make an offer. We will have peace if you accept to take the black, my brother is safely returned to us and your son accepts to bend the knee. Do you understand, my Lord Stark?”

Ned understood her very well. Ned was a danger to the Lannisters, but Robb…in their eyes he was just a young boy playing at war.

“What if I refuse?”

“There will be war,” Cersei replied coldly and drew closer. She even dropped her handkerchief and searched Ned’s gaze through the bars of the cell. “Your son might have one some victories, but my father is not a man to give in so easily to the demands of a hot-headed young boy. I may not know you well, my lord, but I can see that you love you children well. Think of them and what my father did to those houses that rebelled against my grandfather.”

Ned knew all too well.

He thought of Robb and the war he would face. He was a good year

Ned could not burden the boy in such a manner.

Going to the Wall was not the worst fate. It was better than to rot in this dungeon. Perhaps he could even see Benjen and contact Robb and Cat.

“How can I be sure that I will make it alive to the Wall?” Ned asked.

Cersei chuckled. “No one shall harm you, Lord Stark. My father is a vengeful man, but he loves my brother more than anything in the world. I doubt your son would be foolish enough to exchange my brother without having the confirmation that you have safely arrived at the Wall. Even so, we must uphold protocol. There is a man of the Night’s Watch here in the city…his name is Yoren. You will give your vows in front of the High Septon and this man. You shall also have a personal guard to accompany all the way to the Wall.”

“My safety,” Ned snorted. “I understand.”

“Do you?” Cersei asked.

“I think I do,” Ned replied and shook his head in displeasure. He did not want to bend to the will of this cruel woman and her rotten son. Even Robert had seen that he was an unworthy heir, but Ned felt that there are things he had to do, matters he had to set right. “And I accept.”

Cersei exhaled deeply. She looked relieved.

“First, you must help the realm.”

“The realm or the Lannister?” Ned asked mockingly. “Alas, I cannot do anything when I am chained.”

Cersei smiled. “All you need is a raven and a quill. Write to your son and put an end to this fruitless conflict caused by your wife’s foolishness.”

“My wife thought your family responsible for my son’s fate,” Ned replied, searching her gaze. He hoped for an answer but received nothing.

“I can only tell you this,” Cersei replied. “I couldn’t care less about your family, Lord Stark. I never planned or did harm your son nor did my brother Tyrion. He is a wicked and disgusting creature, but all he cares about is whoring and wasting away my father’s coin. Whoever told you that he harmed your son, must have been a fool or was trying to trick you.”

Strangely, Ned believed her. Cat might have been indeed wrong.

“Perhaps,” Ned agreed. “And I shall write to my son.”

Cersei smiled again. She seemed satisfied. “You did right by your children, my Lord Stark. Sometimes, they do not need our guidance.”

“Your son needs more than that, your Grace,” Ned replied. “I could see that when he quarrelled with my younger daughter. Whenever I look at him, I see nothing of Robert in the boy…not even the younger, more promising Robert I had once known and loved like a brother. If the boy at least had something of your father’s abilities…What I am trying to say is this: I think you would do well to keep the boy away from pursuing any of his rights as King or he might become another Mad King.”

Cersei’s smile had faded at once. Her green eyes burned like wildfire.

“Joffrey will make a good King!” she snapped and gathered her skirt. “And you would do well to keep your sage’s advice to yourself, my Lord Stark. You have done enough for the realm by giving your agreement.”

“I have forged peace, as you so eloquently put it,” Ned replied. He was no longer afraid of Cersei or what she would do to him. He knew she depended on him. “Therefore, I am also saving your son’s life, your Grace. If I were to die the fury of the Starks, the Tullys and the Arryns would befall your family. I am not from the south and I hold no love for your games, but I am no fool. You are desperate because my son has won more than just a handful of victories.”

Cersei did not smile again.

“I shall bring you quill and parchment. On the morrow, I shall call upon you and we shall hear you give your vows.”

…


	21. Dany

**Dany**

The sun had already disappeared beyond Ragman’s Port when Dany reached her home. She had sold all oysters and even the fish.

Feeling the exhaustion in her bones, she longed for nothing more than a hot bath. Eight moons along, she often felt more like a burden than a helping hand, though neither Mella nor the girls complained about it.

No, they even offered to help her with her daily chores.

And as dutiful as ever, young Shala waited for her with a bucket of freshwater.

„Do you care for a cup of tea?“ Dany asked the girl.

„Yes, please,“ Shala replied happily and rushed up the stairs, spilling half of the water. „If it is not enough I can get another bucket!“

Dany laughed and went to prepare the tea while the girl went to fetch two more buckets.

Dany then heated the water and when she was done she poured it into two cups.

„Do you prefer lavender or mint?“ Dany asked the girl. „I have got only those two left.“

„Lavender,“ the girl replied absentmindedly, her gaze fixed on the heap of papers stacked on Dany’s worktable. Most of these documents concerned slave shipments, all written in the finest High Valyrian. Dany had yet to find out how Mella got her hands on these documents, but they were a great help, as most of Dany’s work consisted of forging documents. Yet, even that was easier said than done. Depending on the city, different phrases were used in the correspondence and to get the wording right was incredibly difficult. „What is that?“

„Nothing exciting,“ Dany lied and held out the cup towards the girl.

The girl thanked her and eyed the flames of the fire. „Are you also an acolyte like my sister and mother?“

Dany was startled by her question.

„No,“ she replied and took a sip from her cup. „What makes you think so?“

Shala jerked her head at Dany’s red robes laid out on the bed.

„I thought so because on your free days you are always out with my mother and sister.“

It was true, but that had nothing to do with the service in the Tempel of Light, but with Mella’s activities. Most of the time, they helped escaped slaves to find a place to sleep or some food.

Yet, Dany doubted Mella would want Shala to get involved in this matter.

It was not for Dany to tell.

„Something of the sort.“

The girl snorted and emptied her cup faster than lightening. „You are like my mother and sister. They are always hiding things from me and all that just because I am a little girl.“

Her reaction made Dany chuckle.

„I think all little girls feel that way.“

Shala started at her in disbelief

„You as well?“

Dany shrugged her shoulders. „I don’t remember much from my time as a little girl, but I suppose so.“

Then, Dany emptied her cup as well and rose back to her feet. In this specific moment, that babe of hers kicked her incredibly hard.

She clutched her belly and was left gasping for air. She also felt the sudden need to make water.

„Are you well?“ Shala asked and was quickly by her side, touching her shoulder gently. „Do you want me to call for my mother?“

„No,“ Dany replied. It was normal or so Mella had told her. „I just need to…follow the call of nature.“

The girl blushed and giggled, as she rushed towards the door.

„Do you want me to help you?“

Dany laughed and shook her head. „I am big enough to do this on my own.“

When the girl was finally gone, Dany made her way outside and realized that it had grown quite chilly.

The sky above was covered in stars and a thin silver moon hovered high above everything.

It made her wonder whether Jon would be back once the moon had grown full again.

She knew no one could say for sure how long such a campaign really took, but the rumors about the Dothraki had frightened her more than Mella’s tales about childbirth.

Sighing, Dany rushed her worries aside and went to make water in the small pit the girls had dug beneath their house. The nobles of the city had the luxury of heated water, but not the people here.

It made her wonder what her mistress would think of her now, but then she probably thought her long dead.

And that was perhaps for the best. She wouldn’t want to meet her mistress again after she had invested so much coin in her.

Truly, it was strange to think that way. Dany was helping slaves who escaped their chains and yet she was pondering whether she had disappointed her mistress.

 _My mistress was one of the good ones_ , she knew and clutched her belly once more, as she climbed up the stairs. _But many do not have the same luck._

Dany smiled when she noticed the light in the kitchen window. It meant that Mella or one of the other girls had returned.

Dany fastened her pace, as she climbed up the steps, but a loud cry made her stop abruptly.

_Mella!_

_The girls!_

With a racing heart and against all reason, Dany rushed up the steps and moved into the dark anteroom.

It was then, that she realized that she had neither a weapon nor a plan to defend herself.

 _Down in the larder_ , she remembered and slipped back along the anteroom towards the steps. There were only six of them, but they led down to a small chamber in which they kept potatoes, onions, garlic, and most importantly…a knife for cutting.

Dany picked up the knife and within the blink of a moment, she was back inside the dark anteroom.

Then, heard another bang and whimper, but this time it came from upstairs.

It was enough to snap Dany out of her frozen state.

She tightened her grip on the knife, as she climbed up the stairs.

It was in the middle of the night, but even the darkness could not conceal the grizzly sight that presented itself to her there.

Mella lay sprawled over the steps, her eyes empty and dead. Her skull must have been crushed with something hard because there was a puddle of blood oozing into the carpet beneath Dany’s naked feet.

Further up, just around the corner, she found Shala. She too was no longer moving, her legs arranged in a strange position as if someone had pushed her down the steps.

„Please!“ she heard Mara’s cry from the chamber at the end of the corridor. „Please!“

Sucking in a deep breath, Dany followed the voices. When she looked inside the chamber, she found broken furniture and clear signs of a fight.

Inside she also found Mara and two men. One had copper skin and the other pale skin like Dany. The pale one was lying on the ground, his head showing a nasty wound. The copper one was trying to press a struggling Mella to the ground.

Their velvet cloaks betrayed their identity. It were the brutes who had insulted Mella so many moons ago

And now they came to kill them.

Anger and fear made her act and she rushed forward, pushing the knife into the man’s back.

He shrieked in pain, but her foolish deed was not enough to vanquish him.

He turned around and pushed her away, her knife slithering out of her hand.

Dany stumbled backward and head the ground.

She clenched her teeth against the pain, the world suddenly blurred and distant.

It was a choking sound that brought her back to the present.

When she had pulled herself back to her feet, she found Mara on top of the man, kicking and hitting him, as he continued to whimper in pain.

Blood covered most of Mara’s dress, but she didn’t stop. Over and over again she kicked him.

“Stop it!” Dany shouted at Mara and pulled on her shoulder. ”He is already half-dead!”

“I don’t care!” Mara snapped at her, her red hair dancing like flames around her flushed face. ”He killed my mother!”

“I know,” Dany replied through greeted teeth, another wave of pain surging through her body. ”But it is no use.”

Mara finally stopped, her breathing still labored as she stared back at Dany.

“Are you in pain?” Mara asked fearfully and moved to her side, brushing her hand over her arm. ”I am sorry…I was just…What shall we do?”

“We can’t leave your mother and sister lying down there…we need to go somewhere safe…they could come back…,” Dany stuttered and tightened her grip on Mara’s arm.

She had hoped that this would ease the pain, but then she felt a sudden wetness between her legs.

The babe was coming.

…

Dany dreamed of home.

The house with the red door appeared before her like a mirage.

Everything looked just like she recalled and through the open window she could see the lemon tree she had been so desperately searching for.

„Little Princess,“ a soft and gruff voice called out to her. „Come to me, little Princess.“

 _Princess_.

She had been given many names.

_Whore. Naerys. Dany._

But never Princess.

Tears rolled down her cheek, as she beheld the face of her beloved caretaker. His grey beard and crinkled face filled her heart with a deep longing to rush into his spread arms.

„Dragon…,“ a stranger’s voice muttered behind her. „Dragon…“

Slowly, she turned around and another door opened before her. She wanted to rush back into the arms of her caretaker, but when she turned around she found only darkness.

 _If I look back I am lost_ , Dany muttered to herself and moved through the next door, leading into a drum-like room. _If I look back I am lost._

Sitting close to the hearth she found a man, familiar and foreign at once. He was very tall, graced with long silver hair and dark indigo eyes.

The man’s black finery stood out against the red dragon embellished on his doublet.

„The Dragon…,“ the man whispered to the woman lying in a great wooden bed. „The dragon has three heads.“

She was very beautiful, her heart-shaped face framed by long brown hair falling down to her waist.

Her swollen belly betrayed her pregnancy, but the smile on her lips was more than sad.

„My child will be the third heard?“ the young woman asked the man. „How can you be so sure, Rhaegar?“

„I saw it,“ the silver-haired man replied. He smiled sadly. „I dreamed of a girl with silver hair and purple eyes like my mother. It must be our child. A Visenya.“

„A girl,“ the young woman said, her grey eyes full of wonder. „I always wanted a little girl.“

„Or maybe it will be a boy,“ the silver-haired man added and rose to his feet. „I also dreamed of a boy…dark-haired and grey-eyed like you. It matters not…boy or girl…the dragon has three heads.“

Then, he kissed the woman’s lips and embraced her.

Instantly, the pair faded away like the morning mist and left her wandering along a narrow corridor.

The walls here high, grey, and dark as the night.

Only the gilded door looming on the other end of the corridor promised escape.

„Sweet sister,“ the voice of her dead brother whispered, as she put her hand on the handle of the door. „Come to me, sweet sister.“

Golden light blinded her, as she pushed the door open.

When she came back to herself, she found herself seated on a high featherbed, garbed in a white nightgown.

„Can you see this, sweet sister?“ her brother asked. His sharp face was framed by silver hair and his lilac eyes reminded her of rose petals.

„A crown,“ Dany replied meekly. It was the voice of a child. „It is a crown, dear brother.“

A loving smile crossed her brother’s pale lips, as he held up the precious crown. It was a simple band of gold, set with seven gemstones, shining in the candlelight like jewels.

„This crown belonged to our lady mother,“ her brother continued to explain and placed the crown atop her head. „She was a dutiful queen and one day you shall be my queen.“

Viserys sounded so happy, but his words evoked only confusion inside her.

„Your queen?“

„My queen,“ her brother answered and leaned down to kiss her head. „One day I will go home and then we will kill the usurper dogs.“

Dany shivered when she saw the gleam of madness in her brother’s lilac eyes.

„I don’t like dead men…they smell,“ Dany complained, but her brother was only angered by her words. His fingernails dug deep into her cheek and made her whimper.

„You are Princess Daenerys Targaryen!“ Viserys snapped at her, like a monster from a terrible nightmare. „The blood of the dragon does not weep!“

„Viserys!“ she begged. „You are hurting me!“

Viserys didn’t stop, blood trickling down her neck and shoulders, as the darkness swallowed her whole.

Suddenly, she was back in her home in Braavos.

Everything was as it should be. The fire in the hearth was cackling and the eggs nestled between the swirling flames shone particularly bright.

Carefully, Dany picked the eggs from the flames, but it was no use. The flames were lashing out at her like a whip. She recoiled, but the fire grew, the flames feasting on her dress, hair, and skin.

Dany tried to scream, but no sound left her mouth.

_You are the blood of the dragon!_

_The blood of the dragon does not weep!_

The flames continued to engulf her aching body, swallowing her whole.

Suddenly, she was no longer in her home in Braavos, but in a spacious hall, the starry sky shining above her head. Dany recognized it as the Temple of Light, the fires of a great pyre rising around her.

Her eggs were also there beneath her feet, growing hot like coals.

Again, Rhaegar’s voice rang in her ears.

„Will you wake the dragon?“

Then, she heard a loud crack and a distant voice, calling her back to the present.

When she opened her eyes, her head felt hot and wet, her body trembling with pain.

„How long have I slept?“ Dany asked Mara, who loomed over her, red hair in disarray. „My child? Where…,“ she was about to ask, but the pain in her stomach told her what she needed to know.

„The child is coming,“ Hadi assured her. As always, she was dressed in her red robes, smiling. „And you are safe. We brought you to the Temple of Light.“

Dany nodded her head and gritted her teeth against the pain. „Where is your mother…and Shala…,“ she trailed off when another wave of pain washed over her.

„Dead,“ Mara replied sadly and twisted a rag over a steaming pot of water. „But you ought to think of your child.“

„The eggs,“ she realized then, a terrible fear washing over her. „Have you brought the eggs, as I asked of you!“

Another wave of pain washed over her in that moment, but only Mara’s answer calmed her.

„We brought them…like you told us. Now lie back down.“

 _No_ , Dany thought and bit her lips. _It can’t be a coincidence!_

She finally understood who she was and what she needed to do. Her brothers had told her so.

She was Daenerys Targaryen and her brothers were Rhaegar Targaryen and Viserys Targaryen.

And Jon was her nephew.

It was utter madness, but it was true.

„Mara,“ Dany said and angled her head to search the older girl’s face. „Have you made a pyre for your mother and sister?“

Mara nodded her head.

„Of course.“

Dany gritted her teeth and pulled herself up, her hand resting on her belly, as she moved.

„Help me up,“ Dany added and tried to place her trembling legs unto the ground. „I beg you.“

„Have you gone mad?“ Mara asked her and steadied her, as she tried to stand. „You are not…,“ she began, but Dany cut her off.

„Just help me move,“ she told Mara with a final tone and shifted her attention to Hadi. „Please bring the eggs.“

Hadi obeyed and carried the eggs while Mara helped Dany walk, albeit unwillingly.

„Three heads,“ Dany muttered to herself. „The dragon has three heads. Rhaegar said so.“

She had seen it in her visions, dragons born from a pyre. She had heard the cracking of the eggs. It could be no coincidence.

Dany was sweating like a pig when she arrived at the great sanctuary. There, she found a large wooden pyre, the two corpses wrapped in white cloth.

Dany had visited the Temple of Light a good dozen times and often enough the dead were given to the flames to receive the blessings of their god.

 _Death by fire is the cleanest kind of death_ , Dany recalled something the High Priestess had said once.

As she climbed up the steps leading to the pyre, the soft prayers of the acolytes filled her ears.

„I have heard of such eggs,“ Hadi said, as they came to stand before the pyre. „The dragonlords of old had such eggs.“

„Aye,“ Dany replied calmly, the pain in her belly almost distant now. „And I am born from their blood…the blood of the dragon.“

Her feet felt weak like pudding, as she approached the pyre, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

_The dragon has three heads._

„Could you light the pyre?“

Hadi nodded her head and dipped the torch into the cup of fire.

The flames danced and the song of the acolytes rose in strength. As if stoked by their song, the flames rose higher and higher.

Dany swallowed hard, as she picked the eggs from Mara’s arms.

The girls watched her, but it was already too late when they realized Dany’s true intentions.

Dany had already stepped into the flames.

Fresh blood trickled down her thighs, as she moved, painting her gown red like blood.

Sweat was rolling down her cheeks, as the flames touched her naked skin. The fire whispered and cackled, touching her feet and upper body. The touch of the flames was hot as a brazier, but there was no pain. It felt like a warm embrace. Like a mother’s touch.

The world around her disappeared, the blazing flames painting her surroundings in a golden glimmer.

She closed her eyes, but when she opened them she was still there.

This was real. She should be ash, but her heart was still beating.

Like in the eye of a storm the flames whirled around her, images forming before her very eyes.

She saw her brother Rhaegar slain by a mighty warrior with a horned helmet. She heard a woman’s cry, as a babe was cut from her womb. She heard Viserys’ whimper, as his face caught fire and turned red like a terrible wound. She saw an old dragon sitting on a wall of ice, bloody tears rolling down his cheeks, as he wept for his lost family. She saw a man with blue lips, blowing a shining horn, making the world tremble in his wake. She saw a stag king surrounded by golden roses, thorny and bloody. She saw a young wolf defeating a young lion. She saw a young girl riding a wolf…

A loud cracking noise chased away the visions, white flames blinding her. Then, everything faded into darkness, sweet and pleasant as if she was returned to her mother’s womb.

Dany woke naked and covered in ash. Her eyes burned from the smoke, but she was still alive and breathing.

She felt like a newborn babe, her hair and dress burned away. Still kneeling on the ground, she looked around, clutching her child to her chest.

Hot smoke was rising around her in tendrils, but she and her child were not the only creatures that had survived these flames.

She felt the small dragon’s scales, digging deep into her skin, as he crawled up her arm.

Dany stared at the creature in wonder. It was a dragon with black wings and red scales. A

A second dragon, white and bluish, clung to her thighs. The third one, green and golden, crawled from her shoulder and made an attempt to suck from her breast, leaving a tingling feeling in his wake.

Trembling, Dany rose to her feet and the dragons each gave a loud shriek. Her child roared, face red and bloody hair clinging to his round head.

It was only then, after the smoke had dispersed, that she noticed the presence of the acolytes and priests in red robes.

They were staring at her in wonder and then they were suddenly close, trying to touch her, trying to reach for her dragons.

The dragons‘ roar rose in defiance.

…


	22. Barristan

**Barristan**

King Joffrey was seated in the barbed seat of Aegon the Conqueror, but he had never looked more like a young boy. He was quite pretty too, much like his mother Queen Cersei, but Ser Barristan could also see the features of the Kingslayer in his finely-shaped face. The green eyes he must have inherited from his mother, but his vicious character must have been given to him by the gods. Perhaps because he was born from incest, but then Barristan had also known good men who had been born from such a relation. Prince Rhaegar had been one of them and if the gods had been kind he would now be King.

Before Joffrey it had been Robert Baratheon who had occupied this seat, but then it had been a seldom occasion to see him actually see him here. King Robert had never liked to sit and listen to petitioners. No, his pleasures had been the hunt, women and tourneys. Barristan had seen many of them, even more than during Aerys‘ better times, but he had never taken any pleasure in them since Harrenhall.

More than once he had dreamed of unhorsing Prince Rhaegar that day, crowning Ashara Dayne as Queen of Love and Beauty. He might have been able to prevent the worst, but he had failed in that, just as he had failed in protecting King Robert.

And that is why he was called here. Probably to be sneered at by all these Lannister lickspittles.

It was not the first time, but Barristan felt, as if he was getting too old for all this. He had served four kings and looking at his boy, he was not sure if he wanted to serve a fifth one.

True, he was a man of the Kingsguard, but there was no rule that said he had move from the father to the son...

„Step forward, Ser Barristan,“ King Joffrey said haughtily. „And hear what your King has to say.“

Barristan said nothing, as he stepped forward. When he reached the steps, he knelt and fixed his gaze on his boots until the boy king spoke once more.

„Lift your head when your King speaks to you, good Ser,“ The Queen Mother Cersei jested, her green eyes narrowed. Barristan had never liked her. She had always been proud and unfriendly torwards those beneath her. It was hard to compare her to Queen Rhaella and Queen Shaena, both kind and duitiful woman that had always a kind word for the orphans and commoners of King’s Landing.

Of course, the King’s lickspittles joined the laughter. There was Grand Maester Pycelle, who looked like an anxious animal. There was Littlefinger, who smiling and plotting. And at last, there was the Spider, calm and slimy, as always. Barristan trusted none of them.

„I thank you, your Grace,“ Barristan replied and eyed everyone warily. He still recalled the conversation in the King’s council chamber. He had not forgotten how Ned Stark had defended Daenerys Targaryen and his bastard son against the King’s wrath. He had also not forgotten how Ned Stark had been punished for this very reason. There had even been whispers that the King wanted to take his head, but it seemed the Queen Mother had been smart enough to intervene in good time. Even so, King Joffrey’s bloodlust worried him. „May I ask why you called me here, your Grace?“

King Joffrey eyed him with his bright green eyes, a smile curling on his lips. „You have served us loyally, Ser Barristan. Everyone knows about your grand deeds, albeit long past, but the King’s council thinks it is time for you to rest.“

Barristan didn’t believe his ears. „I do not quite understand?“

„It is all quite clear,“ the Queen Mother Cersei explained and smiled sweetly. „My son is trying to say that you are relieved of your duty as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.“

Barristan was still shocked. He had been hesitant about re-newing his vow, but now he felt only contempt. „I gave a vow for life, your Grace.“

King Joffrey leaned forward in his chair and watched Barristan like a curious beast from a fair.

„You were with my father when he perished,“ the boy dared to accuse him. „The way I see it…you are too old to protect anyone.“

Barristan felt an old rage rising up inside him, but he spoke no ill word against his King, as he listened to the Queen Mother’s next insult.

„My son requires capable men. My brother shall be the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard once he returns to us.“

„Ser Jaime,“ Barristan said. The name felt like acid on his tongue, the boy who had watched while Prince Rhaegar’s children had been murdered. A man of low character, a man who was not deserving of the white cloak. „The Kingslayer will take my place?“

The Queen Mother’s green eyes sparkled like wildfire.

„He is Uncle to your King.“

„So is the Imp,“ Barristan snorted. „Will he also be called to the Kingsguard?“

There was only silence and then Lord Varys stepped forward, smiling calmly as ever.

„You shall recieve a keep..,“ he began, but Barristan wanted to hear none of it. He only felt disgust whenver he looked at these faces and he was tired of their insults.

Thus, he gritted his teeth and pulled off his cloak. Then, came his helmet and his breastplate, followed by his arm protection. The clinking of the armour was the only sound that could be heard, as he unsheated his blade.

His brothers were at him a heartbeat later, their blades raised. Barristan smiled at them. Arys Oakheart, Boros Blount, Mandon Moore, Meryn Trant and Preston Greenfields were not men to be feared. They was no Arthur Dayne or Gerold Hightower among them. They did not scare Barristan.

„Don’t fret, brothers. Your king is safe from me,“ Ser Barristan snarled and threw the blade at the boy king’s feet. „Melt it down and add it to the others!“

He did not look back and he only felt his exhaustion when he reached his chamber in the White Tower. It had been his home for many years and the men who had lived with him were still ghosts haunting these halls, but now everything felt strangely empty.

Only Barristan was left.

Old Ser Barristan the Bold.

Even so, he still felt anger rising up inside him. The same anger he had felt at times, as a young man. Anger he had long buried in hopes for peace.

The same peace he had hoped to find when he bent the knee to Robert Baratheon.

Many times, he had asked himself if it had been the right thing to. And now his doubt was greater than ever.

_Prince Viserys might have needed my council more than King Robert._

_Perhaps King Joffrey was not wrong…perhaps he was just an old fool._

It was the rattling of the door that made him to turn around. He expected one of the Lannister lickspittles or one of his former brothers, but it was only a little girl.

A little girl without a tongue.

The darkness gave way to the light, as Ser Barristan slipped along a dusty wall, towards the Silk Maiden.

He had always avoided such places, but it was here where the Spider wanted to meet with him.

 _I should cut out his tongue_ , Barristan thought. _Like he does with with his little spies._

One of the ladies led him into a small anterroom, where he found the Spider, dressed in a simple black cloak.

The lack of his silken robes made him almost unrecognizable.

“Good Ser Barristan,” the Spider greeted with overflowing sweetness.”It pleases me to see you hale. After the unfortunate…,” he began, but Ser Barristan wanted to hear none of the humiliating exchange in the Throne Room.

“Make it quick and tell me about your findings,” Barristan demanded impatiently, his hand brushing over the pommel of his sword.

“Impatient as ever,” Lord Varys chided him his tittering voice. “But I have good tidings for you, Ser Barristan. A new purpose awaits you…it seems dragons have returned to the world.“

Barristan didn’t believe his eyes.

„Dragons?“ he asked and thought the Spider must have gone mad. „Are you trying to take me for a fool?“

„I am not taking you for a fool,“ the Spider assured him. „And it seems very likely that they were hatched by no other than Daenerys Targaryen.“

„How is that possible?“ Barristan asked. „There are no more eggs…at least none that I know of.“

„Essos is a wide land,“ Varys argued. „Some say, such eggs can still be found in Asshai. I can only tell you what I know…Princess Daenerys is supposedly in Braavos.“

Barristan shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his hand over his chin. It took him a handful of deep breaths before he was able to make sense of it all.

Then, he shifted his attention back to Varys.

„Why would you protect Princess Daenerys?“

Varys smiled sweetly.

„Why not?“

„I have not forgotten how you pitted King Aerys against Prince Rhaegar. You could have helped the Prince to remove King Aerys from power and yet you never lifted a single finger.“

Varys didn’t seem moved by his accusations.

„I could say the same about you, good Ser,“ Varys replied. „How many times did you stand by while the King raped his wife? And all of this to keep your precious vow. You seemed angry when Joffrey sent you on your way, but the way I see it…he did you a favour. Now you are free to do what must be done.“

Varys‘ words had struck deeper than a blade.

„Braavos you say,“ Barristan repeated and sighed deeply. „Do you have more infomations?“

„No,“ Varys replied. „But I don’t think it should be hard to find a young girl with dragons.“

Barristan chuckled.

„Indeed.“

…


	23. Jon

**Jon**

Jon felt a sharp pain surging down his back, as he tried to move. Slowly, he opened his eyes and narrowed his gaze against the bright sunlight. The smell of sweat and blood lingered in his mouth and nose, as he tried to remember what had happened.

His memories were blurred, but he recalled that a horde of Dothraki had ambushed their camp.

“Jon,” Tito’s weary voice made him angle his head. ”The Great Shepard be blessed…you are finally awake. I feared the worst.”

Jon noticed that he was lying on the ground, a dusty cloak draped over his body.

“I…,” Jon began and tried to sit up, but a sting of pain washing over his shoulder made him grit his teeth.”What happened?”

“You don’t remember?” Tito asked and knelt down next to him. He helped him in a sitting position. “A small host of Dothraki ambushed and killed hundreds of our men. I lost you in the chaos and tried to find you. Marli saw how you killed the Khal and shortly after the Dothraki horde left. You are truly a lucky bastard. How is it possible that the bloodriders didn’t kill you?”

Jon’s head was pounding because of all this new information, but the fact that this warrior had been a Khal stunned him.

“This man was a Khal?” Jon asked and looked around. Their camp, consisting of several hundred men was located near the river, the dark woods of Qohor looming in the west. They must have crossed the river Darkwash. Jon recognized the landscape. ”I see…those men were his bloodriders. And to answer your question…I think they mistook me for a dead man.”

Tito howled with laughter and patted his knees.

“Then you truly a lucky bastard, friend!”

Even now, Jon winced when he heard the word bastard, though he knew Tito wasn’t trying to insult him.

“I am just happy to be alive,” Jon replied and exhaled deeply. ”How long was I out and how many of our men remain?”

“Three full days,” Tito explained and jerked his head at the tents erected close to a large tree that provided plenty of shadow. ”Barely five hundred men remain, most of them Stormcrows. We are the lucky ones.”

“Busco died,” Jon added quietly.

Tito nodded his head, a sad smile curling on his lips.

“I know,” he whispered and leaned closer. ”But Mero died with him. Even the proud Stormcrows took heavy losses. One of their join-commanders died and the other one is wounded. The acting Commander Daario had us camp here for two days, hoping that his scattered men might find their way here to join us. He told me that he doesn’t want to collect the coin without his men.”

“Collect the coin?” Jon asked. ”But we were defeated.”

“True,” Tito agreed. ”But the rulers of Qohor paid us to fight the Dothraki Horde…I doubt they expected us to win. Besides, we killed several high-ranking Dothraki warriors and you killed the Khal. It is only regrettable that we weren’t able to salvage the body. Well, at least the Dothraki will be occupied for a while.”

“How so?” Jon asked. ”Why will they be occupied?”

Tito smiled and offered him his waterskin.

“First you drink and then I will explain,” Titos said and patted his shoulder. ”You sound like broken glass.”

Jon nodded his head and drank greedily, the taste of the cool water like heaven on his tongue.

“When a Khal dies the successor is decided by a sort of bloody competition. The warriors fight each other until one of them prevails, though it is not always that bloody. It depends on the khalasar. But first, they will prepare the Khal’s body for his departure to the next world. All of this can take weeks.”

Jon nodded his head but decided that he won’t feel safe until they were back in Qohor.

“How long will it take us to reach Qohor?” he asked and handed him the waterskin back. ”I need to return to Braavos. I promised to return within six moons.”

“A week,” Tito replied and picked a green fruit from his belongings. ”Eat or you will not even make it back to Qohor.”

Jon did as he was asked and took a bite from the fruit. The bitter taste made him wince, but it was enough to water his mouth and to fill his stomach.

All the while Tito continued to recount what had happened in the last three days.

It was past midday when Daario Naharis announced their departure. Jon tried to make himself useful, but Tito told him to rest.

It was early in the evening when they climbed back on their horses.

Sweat was rolling down his temples and the movement of the horse didn’t help to ease the pain in his shoulder.

_Dany will surely be angry with me._

“You look much better, green boy,” Daario Naharis remarked as he led his horse next to Jon’s. He looked more or less unscathed, a few bruises littering his cheek. „The Sheepman kept you alive.”

“We Westerosi are hard to kill,” Jon replied curtly.

“And mad,” Daario added and stroked his blue beard. ”What madness possessed you to attack a Khal?”

Jon shrugged his shoulders.

“I didn’t even know that he was a Khal.”

Daario Naharis laughed.

“You are a strange boy. Any other man would have claimed this victory for himself. Not that the rulers of Qohor would believe us without a head, but we were able to salvage the heads of many others,” he added and patted one of the bags fastened on his saddle. The pungent smell and the blood seeping through the seam of the bags told him everything he needed to know. ”Mero is dead, but you will receive your fair share. Daario Naharis always pays his debts, green boy.”

 _He sounds almost like a Lannister_ , Jon thought and forced a smile over his lips.

“I thank you,” Jon answered and lowered his head. ”But as I told you before…the green boy is called Jon.”

“Jon,” Daario repeated and bared his teeth. ”A rather plain name. You should choose a bloodier name to spread your reputation. A friend of mine is named the Widower and another one Bloodfinger, but Jon…Jon evokes nothing but boredom.”

Jon knew he was just jesting, but the sun was burning off his face and his shoulder started to ache again.

“I have no interest to pursue this occupation further. I took part in the campaign because I need coin…there is a girl waiting for me at home.”

Daario’s eyebrows wandered to the top of his head. He gaped at Jon as if he had proposed to cut off his balls and eat them.

Jon couldn’t help but laugh, despite the lingering pain his shoulder.

“Why this horrified expression?” Jon asked sarcastically. “Does marriage scare a brave sellsword like you?”

“Of course not,” Daario snorted. ”But even the most beautiful flower loses its fragrance with time. It is the same with women. There are too many beautiful flowers to choose from. Why settle for one?”

Jon laughed.

“What if I have already plucked the most beautiful flower? Why would I have need of others?”

“You are twisting my words, green boy,” Daario chided him and led his horse away.

Jon slowed down his horse and led it to Tito’s side.

“Was he mocking you?” Tito asked.

“He was polite enough,” Jon replied. ”I will get my coin. That is all that counts to me.”

“That is all that counts,” Tito agreed, a strange expression playing on his face.

“Jon…,” Tito began and started to fiddle with the reins of his horse. ”I would like to accompany you to Braavos. I have always wanted to see one of the Free Cities. Do you mind?”

Jon was surprised by his request but saw no reason to refuse him. He doubted Dany would mind if he brought a visitor.

“Sure,” he replied. ”Come along if it pleases you, my friend.

„Look who has returned to us,“ Tito grinned and jerked his head at the hill rising before them. „Your wolf.“

Jon smiled too when he saw Ghost.

…

Braavos had not changed much since his absence, but Tito eyed everything with awe and wonder. His friend’s mouth stood open, as he saw the numerous canals snaking their way through the city. The inhabitants intrigued him even more and once he mistook one of the fabulously dressed Braavosi men for a whore.

Arriving at Ragman’s Port, Tito wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“What is this horrid smell?” he asked, as they passed a peddler selling salted fish to a Seawife perched in one of their elegant ships. The woman was a great beauty, with black hair and eyes of jade.

Jon felt almost embarrassed by the way Tito was staring at her. He looked as if he had never seen a woman before.

“Don’t stare!” Jon chided his friend and led him along the cobbled street towards Mella’s home. Ghost was trailing after them, scaring away people left and right.

“Why?” Tito asked in confusion. ”Where I come from women are flattered if you stare at them.”

“This woman is no common woman,” she explained. ”She is a Seawife and belongs to the sealord of Braavos. They cost a fortune.”

Tito laughed and patted Jon’s shoulder.

“Are you speaking out of experience?” Tito asked though Jon told him in great detail about Dany. ”Is that the reason you joined the Second Sons? Did one of these sea wives take away your coin?”

“Believe me…I have no need of sea wives,” he replied, as they made their way up the steps leading to the entrance, decorated with painted pots and flowers.

Jon didn’t know why, but it felt as if something was amiss. Usually, Shala would come to greet him or Mella would be drying clothing on the roof. Yet, neither Shala nor Mella could be seen.

Brushing these fears away, he knocked at the door. A moment passed, before the door finally opened. It was Mara, Mella’s oldest daughter.

Instead of a smile, he received a look of utter shock.

First, the young woman gasped, then she clapped her hands together.

“Gods, you frightened me!” Mara exclaimed and squeezed his arm. Then she smiled sadly. „Took you long enough.“

Jon was stunned.

“I know,“ Jon replied, trying to hide his discomfort. ”Where is Dany?”

“She is not here…,” Mara replied vaguely, her eyes coming to rest on Tito, who was trying to appear as if he was not there. With his copper skin and dressed in his worn-out leather armor he stood out among the brightly-dressed Braavosi.”Are you going to introduce your companion?”

“Oh, yes. Forgive my negligence,” Jon apologized quickly. ”This is Tito…he hails from Lhazar. He is a friend.”

“Well met,” Mara replied and brushed her braid of red hair over her shoulder. Then, she stepped aside. ”Come inside…I will explain what had happened…Perhaps you have already heard about it. Hadi’s friends are spreading it everywhere they go.”

Jon frowned and entered, Ghost following after him. Tito grinned at her, but his smile earned him no warm reply. Mara was always cold towards strangers, especially men.

Mara led them along a narrow corridor to the kitchen, where fresh dough was placed on the wooden table. Jon looked around, searching for Shala, who was usually responsible for this kind of task. She had often brought them fresh bread, but she was nowhere to be seen. His wolf was quick to lay down beside the hearth, yawing as he rolled to the side.

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Mara asked him and then Tito.”Though I think wine would be better for this kind of mad tale.“

Tito grinned and elbowed Jon.

„I like the people of this city,“ Tito jested. „Where I come from, all will get is bloody goat milk.“

Jon nodded his head but didn’t return his smile. Something was not right.

„Tea will do.“

When they had sat down, Jon eyed his steaming cup but made no attempt to drink. Tito enjoyed his cup of wine and watched Mara curiously.

„What happened here?“ Jon asked again. „Where are your mother and Shala?“

Mara said nothing for a moment. Instead, she picked up the flagon of wine and took a might gulp.

When she had placed the bottle back on the table she gave them the whole truth, all at once.

„My mother and sister are dead and Dany is at the Temple of Light. I am not sure if they will let her go…after what she did. You know…she hatched dragons.“

„Dragons,“ Jon muttered to himself in disbelief. „The eggs.“

Mara smiled in confirmation. „Indeed, but that I think you better speak with Dany yourself…I do not wish to speak about what happened.“

Jon shook his head in disbelief. „Who killed them?“

Mara grimaced. „Dany will tell you and then you must take her away…far away. I love my sister, but I do not trust these Red Priests.“

„But how?“ Jon asked. „You said yourself that they won’t let her go.“

Mara picked up the bottle again and drank deeply. Then she brushed her hand over her mouth.

„I have already spoken to my sister about this matter. It should be no problem to get you in, but getting outside should be more difficult. Well, Hadi told me about an idea of hers, though Dany said we ought to wait until your return.“

Jon was relieved to hear that.

„She had the right idea,“ he replied and picked up the bottle. He put it into the cup of tea and drank deeply. He needed to calm his ever pounding head. „When will your sister return?“

„By nightfall,“ she explained. „Then, we can plot, but first we should eat something.“

…


	24. Robb

**Robb**

The sun was rising behind the green hills. It was a remote place, not far from the rubyford, but still too close to Riverrun.

Even so, Robb came here to make peace with the Lannisters, who had supposedly tried to murder Bran and had accused his father of being a traitor. It shamed him to be here, but he could scarcely refuse his father when he had written himself, urging him to make peace for the sake of the North and his life.

To think that his father had agreed to join the Night’s Watch angered him even more, but when he saw the approach of the crimson-and-golden banner his dark thoughts dispersed immediately.

Robb counted two hundred men, all garbed in crimson cloaks and shining armour, the pride of the Westerlands.

 _A horde of roaring lions_ , Robb mused and noticed that they were lead by no other than Tyrion Lannister. _The man who had supposedly tried to kill Bran. Mother’s mistake._

Tyrion Lannister looked like some ugly child, as he bounced up and down his saddle.

Beside him rode a large man with black hair. He was grinning about something the dwarf had whispered into his ear.

Robb had also brought a good two hundred men, both from the North and the Riverlands. The Smalljon led the Northmen, guarding the Kingslayer, who had been given fresh clothing and had been allowed to shave.

He looked just like when he had arrived in Winterfell: beautiful and golden-haired.

Still, he didn’t smile, for Robb had taken his hand for trying to flee. It had been the only justice he had been able to give old Rickard Karstark. Well, the Kingslayer had still his sword arm and going by Lord Commander Mormont’s last raven his father had arrived safely at the Wall.

„Lord Stark,“ Tyrion Lannister greeted him after he had been helped from his saddle. „It is a great pleasure to see you again. Ah, and I see you brought my brother.“

Robb smiled and lowered his head in greeting. „I am here...Am I expected to kneel?“

Tyrion Lannister chuckled and pulled a parchment from his vest. It was made of fine paper and sealed with a golden crest in the form of a lion.

„This parchment holds all the important details, Lord Stark,“ Tyrion Lannister replied and offered the piece of parchment to Robb. „We only need your signature.“

„You shall have it,“ Robb promised and waved his hand at his men. They quickly brought a wooden table, a feather and a cup of ink.

Robb unfurled the paper and spread it over the wooden table. He sharpened the feather and dipped into the ink before giving his signature.

„It is done,“ Robb replied and waved his hand at the Smalljon. The man laughed, as he led the Kingslayer forward, mocking him as he went. „It is hard to ride with only one hand, isn’t it Kingslayer?“

The Kingslayer cursed as he slipped from his saddle and went to speak to his brother.

They embraced each other and exchanged a handful of heartfelt words before Lord Tyrion shifted his attention back to Robb.

„My father will not be pleased,“ Lord Tyrion replied. „It was been agreed upon that my brother is not to be harmed.“

„I had happened during the battle,“ Ser Jaime lied, his green eyes filled with hidden rage. „A worthy loss. Besides, it is not my sword hand.“

Robb smiled at the Kingslayer. „A worthy loss indeed.“

Lord Tyrion seemed confused by their exchange but didn’t remark further on it. They exchanged a handful of more pleasantries and Robb was finally allowed to return home Riverrun.

It was a white-washed castle, crossed by three rivers. The blue sky and the green meadows surrounding it gave a peaceful illusion, but only a handful of week turns ago, Robb had fought his second battle, the Battle of the Camps.

They had surprised the enemy and had chased them away from Riverrun like a horde of sheep fleeing from a wolf.

Not long after Robb had received word from his father many more strange rumours had reached them. They said that Stannis Baratheon was building a fleet at Dragonstone and that his brother Renly was raising an army after marrying and bedding no other than Lady Margaery Tyrell.

Robb had been surprised. Renly was the younger son and yet he was trying to claim King Robert’s crown, but that was not the only matter that worried him. Rumours brought to him by the Blackfish told of another host being prepared at Casterly Rock, which meant that the Lannisters still had an army capable of taking on Stannis and Renly.

And perhaps he wouldn’t have cared about all this if his sisters were still locked up in King’s Landing, but word had not reached them long ago that they had arrived at Maidenpool. Lord Mooton had been kind enough to care for them and had promised to bring them once the roads were safe enough to travel to Riverrun.

Robb longed to hold them in his arms and hear of their woes, but that would never be enough to wash away the sour taste from his mouth. He had won two grand victories and had still bent to his enemy. It was not something his bannermen were happy about, though the majority kept these thoughts to themselves.

„You are worried about, your father, aren’t you?“ Lord Edmure asked while he was taking his supper in the company of his mother and uncle. His grand-uncle the Blackfish was out there, guarding the borders and most of the Riverlords had returned to their castles. Robb had also given orders to the Greatjon and Lord Bolton to march back to the North, giving the appearance of a retreat. It was all a lie.

„Lord Commander Mormont is a man I trust,“ Robb replied and eyed his food with little pleasure. It was lamprey pie covered with sauce and accompanied by wine from the Riverlands. It was a gift from Lord Bracken and not long after Robb had also received a gift from Lord Blackwood, probably to slight the other lord. „But we must tread carefully if we want to put an end to the rule of the Lannisters.“

„You have yet to choose a King,“ his mother reminded him anxiously. She sat across him, her red hair braided over her shoulder. Her plate was still untouched, but she had consumed two cups of wine. More than usual. „Who will it be? Renly or Stannis?“

„Stannis is the rightful heir,“ Robb pointed out. „But Renly is wed to Margaery Tyrell. I think it is quite clear who will succeed in this struggle, mother.“

„Perhaps,“ his mother agreed. „But if you betray Stannis and he succeeds he will never forgive you. Your father always called him a difficult man.“

„The reports say that Renly has both the Stormlord's and the Reachemen. They say he is assembling them along the Roseroad to block the path to King’s Landing. His goal is quite clear: he hopes to starve out the Lannisters. A good idea, but if I were him I would make it quick and painless. With the size of his army he could easily take the city within weeks,“ his uncle Edmure added eagerly.

Robb agreed with his uncle. „Which is why we must give him the right kind of motivation to attack. You know what I am planning…We are going to attack the Westerlands to lure Tywin away from the capital, thus paving Renly’s path to victory.“

„That is if he actually makes such a move,“ his mother pointed out. „How do you intend to inform him about your intentions?“

„By sending you to him, mother,“ Robb replied. „With a proper guard of course. Nobody can know who you are.“

„I understand,“ his mother replied. „But you know Walder Frey. Now that you have bent the knee he will expect you to make good on your promise and marry one of his daughters. Or do you intend to inform Lord Frey of your plans?“

„No,“ Robb replied and eyed his cup of wine. „But holding a marriage feast is no bad idea.“

His mother chuckled. „You are suddenly so very eager to marry?“

„Not eager,“ Robb replied and smiled. „But no one thinks a man who is planning a wedding is going to plot against his King. Well, I suppose I am going to fool the old lion. Father would not agree with it, but then it is the only way to put an end to the Lannisters. They may have shown mercy to my father, but Joffrey is most likely a bastard born of incest between Cersei Lannister and the Kingslayer. He has no claim to the throne.“

His mother nodded her head in acknowledgement. „But I think this has nothing to do with your need to see the rightful king on the throne. I think there is something else on your mind.“

„Aye,“ Robb replied. „I think the Lannisters are indeed responsible for Bran’s fall, but now after I have spoken to the Kingslayer, I think it was _him_ and I also believe to know the cause…Bran must have seen _them_.“

His mother and uncle stared at him with wide eyes. „Of course…it all makes sense.“

„And they cannot be allowed to get away with this,“ Robb replied. „Besides, it is never a bad thing if you have the favour of a King on your side. With Renly’s help I could get a pardon for father and perhaps I could also convince him to allow Jon and his lady back to Winterfell. I do not wish for my brother to remain in exile forever.“

His mother had paled when he had said this. Edmure just stared at him in disbelief.

„You want the Targaryen girl in Winterfell, nephew?“

Robb frowned at his comment. „The girl is no danger. She has no army and no support. However, she is important to Jon. I will not help Renly to kill her.“

„Renly will never agree,“ his mother pointed out later. „And Jon Snow…you heard what your father said. He is a Targaryen.“

„He is my aunt’s son,“ Robb pointed out and went to the sealed door. „That makes him half a Stark.“

„He is a danger to us all,“ his mother insisted, but Robb’s shaking head silenced her.

„He is my brother,“ Robb said and pulled the door open. „And now I must leave you. I want to be well-rested when I ride out to meet Lord Mooton and my sister.“

His frowned. „I suppose I should pack. I assume you wish me to leave before the wedding, though I wonder if they will not remark upon my absence.“

„I will tell Lord Frey that you are not feeling well,“ Robb replied. „Besides, I shall not travel to the Twins. If Lord Walder wants to see one of his daughters wed he will have to send her here to Riverrun. I will not set a foot in this cursed castle of his.“

His mother chuckled. „Lord Walder will surely be insulted.“

Robb smiled and returned to his chamber. Greywind greeted him upon his entrance, but he had no intention to rest.

He had still many things to do, but he had no intention to tell his mother about everything. She would not understand.

Theon seemed confused when Robb entered his chamber. He wore a dirty tunic and his breeches were loose. He must have been celebrating in company of a pretty lady.

„I see, you have been amusing yourself,“ Robb remarked. He offered him one of the two cups he had brought. „Drink and let us speak about the future.“

Theon grinned and took a swag from the cup. „Not bad, but summer wine is better. And what future are you speaking about?“

„Your future,“ Robb replied and showed him the parchment he had prepared. „I am now the Lord of Winterfell and I think you were a hostage for the longest time. I intend to support your claim to the Iron Islands if you can convince your father to support us. Tell him to attack Tywin with all his might.“

Theon stared back at him in disbelief. „You would set me free? I can scarcely believe it.“

„Believe it,“ Robb replied and leaned backwards. „And do not disappoint me.“

Theon picked up the parchment and lowered his head in reverence. „I will never forget this, Robb. _Never_.“

With these words, Theon had left him, probably to go back to his lady while Robb had only Greywind to keep him company.

Sure, he could ask for the company of one of these servant girls, but he was not like Theon. Bedding his grandfather’s servant girls did not appeal to him.

And soon he would be wed and hoped with all his heart that his Frey girl would be prettier than Walder Frey’s sons.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One thing I have realized by reading a good dozen of fantasy authors this year, many of them acclaimed, is this: they cannot write romance sub-plots even if their life depended on it. Either the romance is forced, either it is toxic and weird like George's romances (especially in grimedark novels) or it is just competely asexual. Now, I get it, fantasy is read by kids, so it is understandable that they cannot always write explicit stuff, but a good romance does not necessarily need a sex scene to be a romance or particularly good. Honestly, the only good sexual scene (it is not particularly explicit) I have liked so far was between Miri and Simon in Tad William's book series. It just felt right and natural after all the shit they went through. And then there are people who claim romance is bad for stories, but then for me sexual feelings are the most natural thing for humans to feel? So how can one write a realistic story by omitting the sexuality of a person, unless you write an asexual person, but then even asexual people have a sexuality...it is just different. I know it has nothing to do with my story, but it is weird how fanfiction writers are sometimes better at writing human emotions than actual paid writers. 
> 
> As for the change in the tags: Yes, I am going to make Renly King. I don't think it has ever been done before.
> 
> The Roslin x Robb thing will be minor. The real stuff will be happen between Marge and Robb later in the story.
> 
> Next chapter: Jon's and Danys reunion.


	25. Jon

**Jon**

The Isle of Gods was bustling with activity. Garbed in the crimson robes of an acolyte Jon was barely discernible from Hadi.

Jon, who had also cut off his hair, felt like a mummer, as he followed after Hadi, who was constantly brushing her hand over her glowing ruby.

She had not explained to him everything about her plan, namely how they could get Dany out of the temple without anyone recognizing her. Silver hair and purple eyes were, after all, a rather uncommon feature in Braavos.

Well, it seemed he had no other choice, but trust Hadi in this matter.

The Temple of Light was foreign as ever. The red-colored bricks gleamed like stars in the torchlight. They mixed with the people moving towards the temple, but Jon could not shrug off the tension in his body. It was not the first time he had been here. Someone might recognize him.

Jon kept his face hidden beneath the hood of his cloak, as they slipped past the acolytes. The long dark corridor felt never-ending and only when they had left the crowd behind them he felt the tension leave his body.

„The way to the sleeping compartments is not far,“ Hadi whispered and lowered her head in reverence, as they passed one of the guardsmen that could be found in every part of this temple. They wore shining armor, flowing cloaks and sharp spears. „But we must be careful. Do not speak until I tell you. You are my assistant…remember.“

Jon nodded his head in understanding and followed after her, his robes fluttering behind him like the wings of a bird.

They moved down another long corridor, the walls made of black marble. The flames of his torch looked like the light of the moon dancing over the starry sky.

„It is here,“ Hadi said at last and jerked her head at the staircase looming ahead. Darkness ruled here, but when Jon lifted his torch it chased away the shadow. „Just up the stairs. No one should stop us. They trust me.“

Jon nodded followed after her without another word, all the way up the stairs.

They stopped at a large wooden door with an iron handle. She touched it lightly and pushed it opened.

„Go inside,“ Hadi whispered. "But hurry...we don't have much time.“

Jon didn’t recognize Dany at once. Her silver hair was no longer than the length of his little finger and with her red robes, she didn’t look any different from the other acolytes.

Yet, it were these creatures curling beneath her feet that left him gasping for air.

The last dragon had perished more than a hundred years ago, but here they were: dragons reborn from the eggs they had found in the crypts of Winterfell.

One dragon had wings as black as the night and scales red like blood. Another one had pale skin like snow with silver wings and the third one had wings of jade speckled with gold.

His shock intensified when he saw the small babe suckling from Dany’s bared breast. He could only see a thatch of silver hair, but heart grew so restless it felt as if it might jump out of his chest.

He wanted to speak, but his mouth didn’t work as it should.

„Dany…,“ Jon stuttered, his voice soft and distant to his ears. When she didn’t move, he raised his voice a little. „Dany.“

Dany lifted her head, her purple eyes wide with surprise. She didn’t speak for a long time. She trembled, as she moved towards Jon.

The dragons were different. They made no attempt to move.

„They are rather surprising, aren’t they?“ Dany asked, her voice barely above a whisper. „And the child…,“ she trailed off, her voice drowned out by the babe in her arms.

Trembling laughter escaped Jon's lips, as he stepped closer. „Did you know?“

Dany shook her head, her purple eyes wet with tears.

„I didn’t know,“ Dany replied with a shaking head, her purple eyes wet with tears. Jon could finally get a proper glimpse at the babe. Whether it was a boy or a girl, he couldn’t say. „It is a pleasant surprise…like them.“

With them, she meant the dragons. One of them, the black one, seemed to understand them, for he jumped atop Dany’s shoulder, his crimson eyes fixed on the babe.

Strangely, the babe's wailing stopped when its gaze fell upon the dragon. It even lifted its hand and started to giggle softly.

Jon tried to make sense of it all, but it felt as if he was walking through a dream.

„How did you do it? How did they hatch?“

„It is a rather twisted tale,“ Dany explained weakly and touched her short hair. „I don’t really understand how I did it…I only know that I stepped into a burning pyre and didn’t perish.“

Jon was stunned to hear this. It made no sense, but her lacking hair and the dragon on her shoulder told her otherwise.

Dany’s voice called him back to the present. „Do you want to hold your son?

Her words hit him like an arrow, straight in the heart.

His son. Jon Snow had never thought he would have a son of his own.

„Are you sure?“ he asked.

„I think I can tell the difference,“ Dany said and laughed. "Don't you want to hold him?"

„Of course,“ Jon replied in a trembling voice, feeling the urge to reassure her. When he had still lived in Winterfell, he had always feared to father a bastard, but now he only felt joy. „Does he have a name?“

Relief softened her face, as she lifted the babe into his outstretched arms. He shuddered, fearing to drop the babe any moment. It was a silly notion, for he had held all his younger siblings."

„You were a sellsword, but now you are trembling like a young tree bared to the wind,“ Dany remarked and clucked her tongue in a teasing manner. „I have yet to name him. I thought it better to wait for you.“

„You are quite right,“ Jon replied and finally took hold of his son. The babe stirred in displeasure when he was taken away from Dany's arms, but he calmed immediately when his bluish eyes fell upon Jon. He gave another soft giggle and lifted his fat fingers to pull on his cloak. „Do you have a name in mind?“

Dany shrugged her shoulders. „My brother was called Viserys, but I am not sure if that means anything to you. Perhaps Rhaegar…he was after all your father and my brother.“

Jon clutched the babe closer to his chest and stared back at Dany in utter disbelief. „Your brother? Are you sure?“

„I do,“ Dany confirmed and brushed her hand over the black dragon’s head. He made a chirping sound and rubbed his head against her neck. He looked tired. „I don’t remember it all, but I know now that the Rhaegar from your letters was my oldest" brother."

„Which makes you, my Aunt,“ Jon said in the same breath. It sounded utterly ridiculous. Dany was even younger than him. „This is a mad world, isn't it?“

„Indeed,“ Dany agreed and drew closer, touching the babe’s head. „What do you think? Do you like the name Rhaegar?“

Jon pondered her suggestion. It would make sense to name his son for his father, but it didn’t feel right to him. Ned Stark had been his father for most of his life and had both hurt and protected him with his lies, but Rhaegar Targaryen was even more of a stranger to him. There was another name that appealed much more to him. „What do you think of Aemon?“

Dany gave him a curious look. „Like the Dragoknight from the tales? I thought you might choose a Stark name.“

„That wouldn’t be right,“ Jon replied and smiled down at the babe. „He doesn’t look like a Stark…he has silver hair like you. As for the reason…Aemon the Dragonknight was noble and brave. I wanted to be like him as a boy. It's a silly notion."

Dany shook her head and laughed when the black dragon jumped back to the ground to join his brothers.

„I like the name Aemon,“ she added and lifted herself on her toes to kiss first his cheek and then his lips. Jon felt the urge to lift his hand to brush it through her hair, but he had to keep his squirming son in place. When her lips left him, she smiled again. „Aemon the Dragonknight sounds gallant.“

Jon nodded his head in agreement and looked around, realizing that Hadi was watching them from the opened door.

She looked anxious.

„Is someone coming?“

Hadi shook her head and closed the door, her hand clutching her ruby necklace tightly. It was pulsing with energy and Jon couldn’t help but notice the white cloth wrapped around her wrist. She was bleeding...

„What is wrong with your arm? Did you cut yourself?“

„No,“ she replied and pulled off her necklace, presenting it to Jon and Dany. „This will be our way out of this place. Well, at least for Dany. We will change places.“

Jon looked at Dany. Her lips showed a knowing smile. „Change places?“

Hadi chuckled and offered the necklace to Dany. „Put it on and show our skeptic the truth.“

Dany jerked her head at the dragons. They had grown strangely quiet, their spiky tails curled around their slender bodies. It looked as if they had fallen asleep.

„It seems your herbs worked wonders,“ Dany said and picked the necklace from Hadi’s hands. „They are already asleep. It will hopefully keep them still.“

Jon watched Dany closely, as she put on the ruby necklace. 

And then it happened. Within the blink of a moment, Dany’s features had changed. Her features were no longer soft, but sharper like Hadi’s, her eyes blue instead of purple, and her hair red instead of silver. Jon blinked once, twice and a third time, but it was true.

There were twin girls standing right in front of him. Two Hadis.

„What do you think?“ Dany asked almost cheerfully. „How do I look?“

Jon sucked in a deep breath and shook his head in disbelief. „This is utter madness.“

„True,“ Dany agreed and touched his arm. „We should hurry…Hadi is risking much for our sakes.“

Jon nodded his head and handed her back to their son. „Take him…I shall take care of the dragons.“

„No,“ Dany replied. „Hadi will get Aemon out of here. He would only betray our mummery."

„Good,“ Jon said. „But we must leave tonight. Ghost and a friend…Tito is waiting for us.“

„Of course,“ Hadi replied and looked over to Dany. „I am going to miss you.“

Dany laughed and quickly embraced her twin before kissing her cheek. „We are going to meet again. I am sure of it.“

...


	26. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

They had traveled the whole day before they decided to camp near a small brook snaking its way through the hinterlands of Braavos. It had rained all day, the hills and valleys covered in white mist.

By nightfall, Jon had fed the horses and Tito had built a campfire near a tree, which offered a heavy crown to protect them from the rain.

“They are rather wild,” Jon remarked, as Dany continued feeding the dragons with the meat she had roasted over the campfire. The green and the black dragon were hissing and snarling at each other like snakes.

All the while Aemon continued to sleep on Dany’s folded cloak. Ghost was not far, watching the dragons with narrowed crimson eyes.

“They are always behaving like wild little beasts,” Dany assured Jon, who had been watching her curiously. Then, she threw a piece of meat at the pale dragon, who had observed his brothers from the sidelines. It was the piece of meat that managed to lure him from his resting place. ”The green one and the black one are wild, but the pale one is always well-behaved.”

“They lack names,” Jon said, as the dragon lifted his head to look at him.

It was not the first time.

_It is Jon’s blood._

“It’s not easy to decide on a proper name. We found the eggs together…I think you should have a say,” Dany explained and smiled back at him.

“I heard the dragonlords of old rode such creatures into battle,” Tito added, who had been listening to their conversation from his seat next to the fire.”My mother told me that they were able to command them through blood magic.”

„I have dragon blood through my father and mother,“ Dany replied. „And Jon has dragon blood through his father.“

Tito’s eyes widened in fascination, his dark gaze flickering from Dany to Jon.

“Well, that explains a lot,” he said, an amused smile crossing over his lips, as he pointed at the pale dragon. “And I think I found Jon‘s dragon. This one is looking at him like a lovesick puppy.”

“True,” Dany agreed enthusiastically and flashed Jon an encouraging smile. ”You should try feeding him.“

She held out the stick with the roasted meat.

Jon nodded his head in understanding and pulled a piece of meat from the stick.

Hesitatingly, he moved closer towards the pale dragon, who continued to stare back at him in silence.

Then, he knelt down before the creature and held the piece of meat above the dragon’s head. Unlike his wild brothers, the pale dragon waited until Jon had dropped it to the ground before devouring it completely. And as if spurred on by Jon’s actions the dragon propelled himself in the air and landed on his arm.

Jon was stunned by the dragon’s agility and Dany clapped in appreciation.

“Good work!” she couldn’t help but praise the pale dragon, who continued to crawl up Jon’s shoulder, curling his spiky tail around his arm.

Grinning, Dany handed Jon another piece of meat. ”Now you have to reward him. That way he will learn to obey your commands.”

Jon couldn’t help but smile.

“Your reward,” he told the dragon and dropped the piece of meat on the ground. Quick as ever the dragon devoured it. „Well done.“

“Now touch his back,” Dany instructed gently. ”They like that, especially after a meal.”

„They sound more like babes,“ Jon snorted and touched the dragon’s scaled back. „He feels so warm.“

“As I said…the dragon is in love,” Tito teased.

“It seems I have got competition,” Dany agreed and lifted Aemon back into her arms. He was squirming, though Dany had fed him not long ago.

Thus, she tried to feed him again, but Aemon continued to wail. Dany sighed and rocked him while Jon continued to feed the dragons. As expected, the green one and the black one continued to fight for every piece of meat while the pale lay peacefully beside Jon and curled his tail around himself.

Finally sated, the two wild dragons started to dig a hole in the ground and went to sleep.

By then, Dany had finally calmed Aemon, though he remained fully awake, pulling on Dany’s robe.

„Dany,“ Jon said then. „Let me take care of Aemon for a while. You could get a wash in the brook.“

Dany liked the idea of a bath, but she had never left Aemon alone. Jon and Tito were still strangers to him and his fussing was bad enough when he was hungry or unwilling to sleep.

„That would be lovely,“ she replied and knelt down next to him. Jon held up his arms and then she placed Aemon in his arms.

”It won’t take long,” she assured him with a quick smile and placed a kiss on his cheek, before leaving them.

The water in the brook was cold, but they had been on the road fort he last two days, only leaving their saddle to rest, make water, or to feed Aemon.

When she had scrubbed herself clean, the sun was already kissing the green hills disappearing in the east. The further she tried to look, the more endless the landscape appeared. Tito had told her little about his home, but then she would soon see it with her own eyes.

Sighing, she pulled on her red robes and returned to their camp. There she found Tito and Jon looming over Aemon. Tito was watching him curiously while Jon was holding a piece of red cloth in front of his son’s head.

“Babes like it when you do this,” Tito explained to Dany after he had noticed her presence. Dany was was not surprised by the way Aemon was trying to reach for the cloth. Anything bright drew his attention, but Jon was fascinated. „They are like cats.“

„He is a dragon,“ Dany told him in a jesting manner. „But he certainly lacks the wings.“

Tito laughed and patted Jon’s shoulders. „Perhaps they will start growing when he starts teething.“

Jon frowned at that. „You seem to know an awful lot about babes. You never told me…Are you wed?“

Tito shook his head and picked the red cloth from Jon’s hand. It looked expensive, kind of cloth a woman would wear.

„Is that from your woman?“ Dany asked and sat down beside Jon. „It's very pretty.“

“No, it belongs to my sister,” Tito explained proudly. ”She made me promise to bring it back.”

“Clever of her,” Jon said. „I assume we are going to meet her?“

“Well, I will be pleased to meet your sister _and_ your Mother,” Dany added.

“And my many other siblings,” Tito added and bared his teeth.

“Of course,” Jon agreed.”How many siblings do you have?”

Tito wrinkled his brows and pondered his question for a moment.

“Twenty I think,” he replied and Jon and Dany stared back at him in disbelief. ”I stopped counting a long time ago.”

“Your poor mother,” Jon snorted.

“Not all of them are my full-blooded siblings. My mother was my father’s head wife. He had two younger women in later years.”

“That seems to surprise you,my friend,” Tito remarked and gave him a knowing smile. ”Yet, I heard the dragonlords of old used to take more than one wife. The one that conquered the Sunset Kingdoms even wed his sisters. In my tribe, nobody would ever consider marrying a woman from the same city, but I guess everybody has his own traditions.”

“Dany is not my sister,” Jon said and looked mortified by the idea of bedding his sister.

Dany had never wasted much thought about the matter.

She recalled that Viserys had wanted to make her his queen and yet it had never disgusted her. Perhaps she had more dragon blood than Jon or perhaps it was just their upbringing that made the difference in this matter.

Tito shrugged his shoulders.

“I never thought that…you two don’t show much resemblance to each other,” Tito said and bound the ribbon back around the scabbard of his sword. „But I think you ought to keep your relations to yourself. People will stare at you simply for your strange appearance and your foreign language. Very few of my people speak Bastard Valyrian.“

„How did you learn it?“ Dany asked and bared her breast to feed Aemon once more. „Through your travels?“

Jon frowned at her actions, but Tito didn’t seem affected. „My mother thought me. She is a very _special_ woman.“

„A special woman who seems to know an awful lot about dragons?“ Jon asked and continued to glare at Dany. She enjoyed vexing him about his Westerosi prudishness. „Is that common among your kind?“

Tito shook his head. „Not really…As I said...she is rather _special_.“

„Do you always have to feed Aemon like that?“ Jon asked her later. Dany’s head was resting on his chest while Aemon was sleeping beside her. „Were you trying to vex me?“

„Of course,“ Dany replied and watched the countless stars littering the sky. The lands were quiet, safe for the sound of the rustling wind. „Besides, I do not understand why you are so upset. Feeding a babe is the most natural thing in the world. Even the noblewomen in Volantis bare their breasts when they feed their children.“

Jon snorted in disbelief. „Most women in Westeros do not feed their babes themselves. Even Lady Stark had a nursemaid for all of my siblings. And she was very attached to each of them.“

„It is considered healthier,“ Dany replied. „At least that is what I heard other women say.“

„Well, I don’t know much about babes,“ Jon replied. „Lady Stark hardly ever allowed me close to my siblings when they were this young. She probably thought I might drop them or something.“

Dany heard the bitterness in his voice and made an attempt to change the topic.

„The dragons still need a name.“

„True,“ Jon agreed, his voice growing softer. „Do you have any suggestions?“

Dany shook her head. „I don’t remember any dragon names…only the names of the conqueror’s dragons.“

Jon chuckled. „There you have it.“

Dany sat up to get a better look at his face. „You want to name them after the conqueror’s dragons? Isn’t that a little presumptuous?“

„Why not?“ Jon asked. „They are the first dragons in more than a century. I think it more than fitting.“

Dany laughed and lay back down. „Very well…I suppose the black one is Balerion and the green one Meraxes…,“ she trailed off.

„And Vhagar,“ Jon finished for her. „Visenya’s dragon. Arya would be terribly jealous…“

…


	27. Arya

**Arya**

Riverrun’s godswood was not spacious enough to hold all the lords and ladies that had come to pay witness to her brother’s wedding to Lady Roslin Frey.

Lady Roslin was very pretty. She had a round face and soft brown hair nearly reaching to her waist. Her dress was just as exquisite, made of white silk, so shiny Arya thought it was made of thin air. Her hair was bare, safe for a handful of poppies and daisies woven into her many braids.

The old Sansa would have sighed and admired the beauty of it all, but she was unusually quiet since they had left Maidenpool. Her sister had wept upon their reunion and today she had wept all morn because her dress didn’t fit her ever-growing body. Weeping was all that Sansa had done in the last days and Arya was glad she was finally silent.

Yet, that didn’t make this occasion any better for Arya. The scratchy feeling of her dress was driving her mad. It was made of shiny grey lace and some sort of silken collar that had turned her neck all red and itchy. That the servant girls had spent all evening taming her unruly hair had only made it worse.

Sansa had even called her pretty.

Even so, when her Lady Mother had been done with her work she had taken a look at Arya and had even called her pretty. Arya had been happy for this brief moment because in the past Jeyne Poole and Sansa had always called her Arya Horseface, though compared to Walder Frey’s weasel-faced brood anyone would look pretty. Truly, how someone like Walder Frey had been able to father a girl like Lady Roslin was a mystery to her.

At least, Robb was happy. He looked as if he liked the girl he was going to marry, but Arya didn’t feel the same way. The reason was the presence of her betrothed, a plump Frey boy with thousands of freckles on his cheeks and a shock of reddish hair to accompany his weasel-face.

Elmar Frey.

 _Elmar_ , she repeated the name to herself and looked at him. He was standing between his many brothers and was picking his nose. _Elmar the Nosepicker, my lord husband. Never. I rather marry Theon Greyjoy._

Arya brushed these thoughts away and shifted her attention back to the bride and the groom.

The bride was led by one of her elder brothers, forced to stand in for old Walder Frey. Robb had been relieved when the gold lord had announced his absence.

Robb walked beside their uncle Edmure and was dressed in grey and white. Greywind forced to observe the ceremony from afar.

“Who comes before the gods tonight?” his uncle asked, breaking the silence.

“Lady Roslin of House Frey comes here to be wed…a woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods,” Stevron Frey answered quietly, no smile showing on his thin lips. ”Who comes to claim her?”

“Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell,” her brother replied clearly. ”Who gives her?”

“Stevron Frey, heir to the Twins,” the older man replied and placed Lady Roslin’s hand into Robb’s. Then he looked down at Lady Roslin.”Do you take this man?”

“I take this man,” Lady Roslin whispered her reply. Robb pulled her cloak from her shoulders and replaced it with his own, made of a white pelt and embellished with a grey direwolf.

“You may kneel and receive the blessing of the gods,” her uncle Edmure added. Hand in hand her brother and his bride knelt down before the tree. A moment of silence passed then the bride and groom kissed.

The ending of the marriage ceremony was accompanied by clapping and soon enough the guests made their way back to the great hall. Sansa was seated left from her and Elmar the Nosepicker was seated right from her, gulping down a piece of chicken.

Arya tried her best to ignore him, but this proved difficult. He was making these annoying noises. She had the urge to kick him, but that would displease Robb and she had promised to behave.

Thus, she endured it and focused on her food.

Now and then, Elmar the Nosepicker mumbled an incoherent sentence to her and Arya continued to ignore him.

Yet, then the minstrels were called forward and the dancing began.

At once, the guests rose to their feet and started to crowd the dance floor. Robb was no great dancer, but he tried his best, probably to please his bride.

One song after another was played before her mumbling betrothed asked her to dance with him. She only agreed because he had promised to behave, but she feared the most for her pretty slippers. Her betrothed stumbled more than once over her toes.

„Be more careful, stupid!“ Arya chided him quietly and at last, she was freed from her bothersome obligation. Stumbling, she returned to her seat, an amused smile playing on Sansa’s lips.

„The boy is worse than Bran!“

It was one thing Arya and Sansa could agree on.

„He broke my toes,“ Arya jested. „And my shoes.“

Sansa nodded her head. „Perhaps I should give him a lesson?“

„Perhaps,“ Arya replied and swallowed her displeasure. She still recalled how happy her lady mother had been about her return. She had wept for hours, nearly choking Arya to death until Robb had pulled her away. Even so, Arya couldn’t help but nurse a certain amount of displeasure over her betrothal. „Perhaps you could also tell him that picking your nose is disgusting!“

The rest of the night had passed quietly until a particularly drunken lord called for the bedding.

Cheerfully, the drunken horde of men lifted Lady Roslin in the air and carried her out of the room while the ladies, most of them Roslin’s kin, pulled a helpless Robb to his wedding chamber.

As expected, she and Sansa were sent to bed, though she had asked to join the other ladies. She had always wanted to know why people made such a fuss about the bedding…

Late into the night she still heard the sounds of the celebrating guests.

Somewhere between midnight and sunrise, she woke suddenly, the taste of blood lingering in her mouth.

She dreamed she had been a wolf, running freely through the woods.

Sadness filled her as she pulled on her cloak and slipped out of her chamber. She had spent the last days exploring the castle and knew how to avoid the guards.

Luckily, the drawbridge was lowered and it was not hard to mix among the smallfolk to slip out of the castle. Robb wouldn’t approve, but Arya longed for the smell of grass.

 _Only an hour of freedom_ , she thought and hopped over the green meadow, daisies, and daffodils lining the muddy trail leading to a small wooded area not far from the castle.

Not long after, she noticed someone’s presence. Someone was there, watching her from the distance.

Slowly, she turned around and gasped when she saw who it was.

Familiar golden eyes stared back at her, though by now her beloved wolf had grown into a massive beast like Greywind.

“Nymeria!” she shouted and bridged the distance, burying her tear-stricken face in Nymeria’s tousled fur, so much like her own hair. ”You came back!”

When she was done weeping like Sansa, she looked up and walked along Nymeria’s side, brushing her hand through her fur.

„You are so big,“ she admired her wolf. „I can’t believe it!“

Her wolf gave a soft howl and nuzzled his massive head against her cheek, pushing her back into the grass.

Arya laughed and quickly pulled herself back to her feet. When Nym didn’t follow, she turned around and gave her wolf a questioning look.

„What are you waiting for? Won’t you come back with me?“

Her wolf’s golden eyes watched her for a long time before she turned away.

Arya ran after her and grabbed Nym’s neck, but she didn’t stop. She continued to move further away from Riverrun.

Arya slipped along the way and kissed the wet grass.

„Nym!“ she shouted, tears burning in her eyes. „Where are you going?“

Her wolf stopped at last and looked back at her.

Arya could not hear her thoughts, but she knew what she was asking.

„Where will you go, sister?“

Arya bit her lips and glanced back at Riverrun, but in her heart, she knew that she was needed elsewhere…

Exhaling deeply, she ran back to Nym and brushed her hand over her back. The wolf watched her quietly and as if she could read her thoughts she lowered her body to the ground.

Arya smiled and climbed atop her back.

Carefully, she held unto her thick fur and nudged Nym softly.

The wolf seemed to understand her without words and ran.

At first, Arya didn’t know where, but then her heart new.

East…to find Jon.

And away from Elmar the Nosepicker.

…


	28. Ned

**Ned**

Maester Aemon was breaking his fast when Ned entered his dimly-lit shed. The smell of raven shit and candles filled his nose, as he moved towards the large wooden table placed in the middle of the round chamber. Parchments, scrolls, and old leather-bound tomes covered half the table, hiding the shrunken old man from his searching gaze.

On a smaller table sat the old Maester’s steward, a chubby boy named Samwell Tarly. Ned knew his father, but the boy and the blunt Lord of Hornhill shared a little resemblance. The boy was shy and clumsy, but supposedly very clever.

“Maester Aemon,” Ned greeted old man.”You called for me, maester?”

“I did,” the old man answered and lifted his head, his unseeing eyes staring off in the distance. ”A raven has arrived this morn…from Winterfell.”

“My son perhaps?“ Ned asked and exhaled deeply.

The old man smiled and pulled forth a roll of paper he had hidden in the pocket of his dark robes. Then, he shifted his attention to Samwell Tarly, who was watching them curiously.

“Samwell,” the old man said to the boy. ”I think you can do your work in the other room. Lord Stark and I wish to speak alone.“

The boy blushed.

“Of course!“ he muttered anxiously, gathered books and parchments in his arms, and stumbled out of the room. ”Of course!“

“I didn’t dare to read it,” the old man added softly and held out the scroll to Ned. ”And I can assure you…Janos Slynt and his companions will hear nothing of this conversation.”

The mention of Janos Slynt made Ned‘s blood boil. He had dishonored himself by accepting these false accusations of treason to spare his son a war, but that had not been enough to Tywin Lannister. It shouldn’t have surprised him that the old lion had sent a dozen of Lannister loyalists to keep a close eye on the former Lord of Winterfell. The only relief was that the Lord Commander disapproved of their presence.

_At least, they won’t be able to follow me beyond the Wall._

“I thank you, Maester Aemon,” Ned replied politely and picked the raven scroll from Maester Aemon’s hand. Carefully, he unrolled the piece of paper and read the few precious lines written by Robb’s hand.

It was not much. As promised, he had made peace with Tywin Lannister and had fulfilled his vow to Walder Frey by marrying one of his daughters. Arya and Sansa had also reached Riverrun, but Jon was still out there, probably being hunted by one of the Lannister’s henchmen.

„Bad tidings?“ the old man asked and graced him with a toothless smile. He was fragile and sickly, yet he was inquiring about Ned’s well-being.

“No,” Ned answered and forced a smile over his lips. ”My son informs me that he bent the knee to King Joffrey. My daughters are also safe.“

“Good for them, my lord,” the old man said in a sad tone. „But that doesn’t help you, does it?“

Ned was stunned by his blunt question.

„I did nothing,“ Ned insisted. „But I did it to spare my son a war. He is just a boy.“

The old man smiled. „I am not judging you, my lord. Forgive me, but there are rumors…Is it true that you defended my kin against the King? They say your son found her in a pillow house and ran away with her…“

Ned was surprised the old man had heard about his quarrel with Robert, but then Lannisters had probably not wasted any time to spread their lies.

„When I met her I didn’t know she was a Princess,“ Ned replied. He saw no reason to lie to the man. „Not that it matters. She is still a child and Robert was overstepping his bounds. I only did what I thought right.“

„So do we all,“ the old man and leaned on the table. „And King Joffrey’s ill birth? Is it true he is a bastard?“

Ned clenched his teeth and stuffed the scroll into the vest of his cloak. When word had reached them about Stannis Baratheon’s accusations of incest against Cersei Lannister and the Kingslayer, Ned had felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over his head. In this moment, all he had found had suddenly made sense. Joffrey and his siblings were bastards and Jon Arryn must have found out the truth.

„I am not sure, but it would explain a great many things,“ Ned replied. „Why do you care?“

„You are quite right,“ the old man said and chuckled. „I am a man of the Night’s Watch and I am not supposed to take part in the struggles between your family and the Lannisters. I was simply curious, but I have to admit… it fills me with a certain amount of satisfaction to see the proud Tywin Lannister shamed by his children, though it doesn’t ease the loss of my family.“

_His family._

The realization hit Ned thunder. The man in front of him was one of Jon’s last living kin.

“True,” Ned agreed and exhaled deeply. ”We all lost much through the Rebellion. For whatever it is worth, I didn’t approve of Tywin Lannisters butchery.“

Yet, his words didn’t ease the pain written over the old man’s face.

Guilt clenched around his heart like a tight noose and made him act without thinking.

“How well did you know, Prince Rhaegar Targaryen?“

The old man shrugged his shoulders, surprise apparent on his wrinkled face.

”I have met him only once, but he wrote me letters. He liked discussing his prophecies and sometimes we spoke of personal matters…,” he trailed off.

“Prophecy,” Ned muttered to himself, recalling his last conversation with Lya. She had spoken about a prophecy or whatever her feverish mind conjured up in her last moments.

_Utter nonsense._

“My Lord,” the old man began, but Ned cut him off.

“I am no Lord,” Ned insisted and met the old man’s gaze. ”Did Prince Rhaegar ever speak to you about my sister?”

“He did,” Maester Aemon confirmed, a weary expression taking hold of his face. ”I know the prevailing opinion among your people is that he raped her, but the way he spoke about her points in a different direction. Forgive me for saying so, but I had the impression that the feeling was mutual, for in his last letter to me he informed me that his beloved Lyanna was carrying his child. I always wondered if the child survived,” he continued, his unseeing eyes wide and hopeful.

 _Gods be good_ , Ned thought and braced himself against the table. _He knows._

“My sister died of a fever…” Ned began and wanted to deny the existence of such a child, but when he saw the tears rolling down the old man’s cheeks he was unable to control it, the words spilling from his mouth. ”She died of childbed fever.”

The old man grabbed the handle of his chair with such force that Ned feared he might hurt himself.

“And the child?” the old man asked, his breathing labored. ”Did the child die?”

“No,” Ned replied. ”The boy lived.”

“A boy,” the old man muttered weakly, leaning on the table. He was trembling. ”Where is the boy?”

“Far away,” Ned replied vaguely, but seeing the old man’s heartfelt reaction he doubted he would ever betray his secret. ”I think Jon left because he found out the truth.”

„Jon Snow,“ the old man muttered to himself and looked at Ned. „I thank you for telling me the truth…I thought I was the last of my kind.“

…


	29. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

They had traveled for nearly three weeks when they crossed the borders of Lhazar. What they encountered was a beautiful landscape, full of rolling plains red, yellow, and green grass. Tito’s people call it fire grass, commonly used to produce oil for lamps and cookfires.

Yet, they were still a day‘s ride away from Tito’s birthplace Lhazosh, one of the three fortified cities of the Lhazareen.

Dany was relieved to hear that. She longed for a night under a proper roof. Lhazar’s climate was hot, but the nights chilly. Jon and Tito tolerated the cold well enough, but Aemon and Dany were different. Every night, she had to wrap her cloak and pelt around her son to keep him warm.

The dragons were similar. They held a great dislike for the cold and slept in holes they had dug into the earth.

“Finally,” Tito said and pointed at the town located near the swirling slope of a river. Like most Lhazareen towns, the houses were made of wooden planks and the roofs were covered with dried fire grass. The only protections were wooden walls and ditches meant to keep away unwelcome enemies.”This is the last town before Lhazosh. We should stay here overnight...the rest of the way we will only find herds of sheep and fields.“

“You know your homeland best,” Jon said and winced, as straightened himself in his saddle. Dany shared his pain. Her ass was wound from the long ride.

Aemon started to wail, because he was either wet or hungry.

 _Have a little patience_ , she whispered and rocked him, her eyes darting to the three dragons soaring above their heads. She had looked at them a thousand times, but their beauty was still breath-taking. Especially, now when the first rays of sunshine were falling upon them, their shining scales and giving the appearance of diamonds or other precious jewels.

Balerion’s smooth skin looked like black obsidian. Vhagar‘s scales glowed like the surface of a blue diamond flecked with silver. Meraxes‘ wings of gold were just as beautiful.

“One day I want to see your land,” Tito added and dismounted.”I want to see this frozen water.”

“It’s called snow,” Jon corrected him, but Tito ignored him and grinned.

“I like my name better,” Tito jested and grabbed the reins of his horse, leading it along a downtrodden path towards the river. Near the river bend, she noticed a handful of girls, some bathing and some cleaning clothing.

Dany climbed from her saddle, Aemon secured on her arm. Jon walked next to her, Ghost following after the horse.

As if the dragons could sense their intentions, they descended from the sky. Dany held out her free arm and Balerion landed on it, his tail curling around her upper arm. Vhagar followed suit and settled himself on Jon’s shoulder. Only Meraxes continued to soar above their heads, his golden wings spread wide. He looked lonely. If Viserys had lived he could have claimed Meraxes as his own, but her brother was dead and gone.

 _Maybe Aemon will be his rider_ , she asked herself not for the first time, but that moment was years away. _Who knows how big the dragons will be then._

“We should spend the night out here. Ghost and the dragons could frighten the inhabitants,” Tito suggested and pointed at the plain sprawling around the river bend. Further away from the river, the grass changed to a pale yellow color, but close to the river, the grass was a rich green.

They followed the river and built a camp beneath a large tree. Jon watered the horses and Dany used the time to feed Aemon. By the time, her son was sated, Tito had made a proper cook fire. Ghost was already slumbering on a patch of grass, as Dany sat down next to the fire. Carefully, she placed her sleeping son on her folded cloak and made sure to cover him with the pelt.

A heartbeat later, the dragons were there, swarming around her like a bear around a pot of honey. Balerion started to blow small flames in the air and Meraxes started to shriek. Only Vhagar remained where he was and sat on the branch of the mighty tree.

“Soon they will have plenty of meat to feast upon,” Tito promised.”My family owns a large herd of sheep. Believe me...after a moon or two, you will start to pray for something else than sheep meat.”

“I doubt the dragons will care,” Jon remarked and sat down next to the fire, his cloak thrown around his shoulders.”And you are sure your people will not chase us away when they see the dragons?”

Tito shrugged his shoulders and sat down next to Jon.

“My people have never seen dragons,” Tito explained. ”But they are quite adaptive. Besides, you will have to convince my mother and brother of your trustworthiness. They are the ones in charge of the city.”

“They are in charge of the city?” Jon asked. ”Is your family some sort of nobility?”

“I don’t know what that means, but my father was elected to the position of chief upon my grandfather’s passing. My brother succeeded him after his death and it is very likely that his son will be the next chief. The office has been in our family for many generations,” Tito continued to explain and nibbled on the piece of fruit he had cut apart with his dagger.

“Elected chief?” Dany asked. ”That sounds familiar. The Triarchs of Volantis are elected every year, but it seems the term of your rulers is rather lengthy. How long is “for many generations”?”

“I don’t know, a very long time,” Tito answered. ”It is not important. I think the office has been occupied by my family since my grand-grand grandfather.”

“And your mother?” Jon asked and leaned over to feed Ghost with a piece of dried meat. ”You mentioned that she and your brother are in charge of the city.”

Tito shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, my mother is no chief, but my brother likes to leave the squabbling farmers to her. My people respect her for her knowledge.”

„And she is a dragon lover,“ Dany added in amusement. „Which is good for us, isn’t it?“

Tito laughed. „I wouldn’t call her a dragon lover…she is interested in everything magical.“

…


	30. Barristan

**Barristan**

The titan’s roar could be heard everywhere. Barristan was walking along Ragman’s Port, back to the tavern called Happy Port. In truth, it was a brothel, but he had to careful with his coin.

It had taken three weeks to cross the Narrow Sea, but three more days had passed before he had been allowed entrance into the city. This had included bribery and many discussions with the customs officer. Barristan had used his time by inquiring about a girl with silver hair and a boy with a white wolf.

Some had laughed and most had just shrugged their shoulders. When he had told them about the dragons, they told him to go to the red priests.

He had more luck at the temple of Light. The crimson-robed priestesses had spread these tales far and wide, but most inhabitants were skeptical.

Barristan was not surprised. Braavos was a city with many gods. The red god was just one of them and not many believed in the return of the dragons.

Even so, Barristan had gone there to inquire and had received only mistrustful looks. One of the priestesses had pulled him aside and had explained to him that the girl he was seeking was no longer here.

When Barristan had asked where she had gone the girl had told him to name his dwelling place. He had happily agreed and had even offered her a handful of coin, but she had sent him on his way.

Thus, Barristan had spent the morning preparing for his next travel. First, he had gone out to the market to buy himself fresh clothing. His thick wool tunic was of little use in this warm climate and he had also sold his heavy plate for something lighter. Only his sword he had kept.

Along the way, he had been challenged by at least a dozen water dancers, but Barristan had refused them all, claiming that he was just an old squire who had no understanding of sword fighting.

The men had been amused and had left him at peace. Around midday, while he had been enjoying a meal of fresh oysters he had been approached by a pretty girl in a bark. Barristan had thought her a noble lady, but when she had shown her breasts to him, he knew that she was a pillow girl. A seawife, they called them here, but that hadn’t made this encounter any less embarrassing.

Now, it was late evening and the sky was already darkening. A handful of stars blinked in the distance and the sounds of the city filled his ears. It was the sound of high boots on the stony ground, the cries of girls selling oysters, the rattling sound of the carts, and the swishing sounds of the barks gliding through the canals.

And of course the roar of the titan. It was time to meet with the lady priestess, but just as he was about to cross the bridge, he noticed the presence of these men…

They wore colorful breeches and high boots. Their hair was covered with caps and feathers, their slender blades fastened on their shiny belts.

They watched him, probably because of the blade fastened at his hip, but they didn’t challenge him. They just looked at him before starting to laugh.

The sound of laughter and clinking cups reached his ears when he entered Happy Port. The sound of a lute and the smell of freshly-roasted fish filled his nose. _Fish_ , it was the only proper dish to be had in this city, but it filled his belly well enough. It was also cheap, as were the ale and the women.

Barristan ordered a cup of ale and sent the girl away. He was too old to break his vows.

As he was waiting for his cup of ale he listened. Most of it was meaningless talk about the infighting between the nobles of the city. The use of poison and assassinations were common these days, but that was not the only reason. The real reason was that the Sealord was very sick and his potential successors were already eying his position with interest.

One name that was repeatedly mentioned was Tormo Fregar, a name that meant nothing to Ser Barristan, but then he had hardly ever listened to the talk of the small council that concerned the Free Cities. Usually, it had been about Robert’s many loans.

„My lord,“ the serving girl said and placed a cup in front of him. „Your cup of ale?“

Ser Barristan thanked her and took a sip from the cup of ale, as his eyes fell upon the familiar face of the once crimson-robed lady priestess. She wore the common clothing of a Braavosi lady, colorful and with a feather in her braided hair.

She smiled shyly when she noticed Barristan’s presence and looked around a good dozen times before she made her way to his table.

„I thank you for coming,“ Barristan told the girl and pulled out a chair for her. „I am desperate to hear about the Princess‘ whereabouts.“

The girl nodded her head and sat down.

„Forgive me,“ the girl said and eyed him with suspicion. „But Dany is a dear friend of mine and she doesn’t want to be found. First, I must know who you are.“

Dany. It sounded so familiar, but the girl was from Braavos.

„I understand,“ he replied. „I am Ser Barristan Selmy. I once served her family and now I want to find her. I do not mean to do her harm. I swear it.“

The girl nodded her head.

„She went east,“ she explained. „Far east…to the land of the sheepmen.“

Barristan quickly unfolded the map on the table.

„Far east? Where is that? Myr? Qohor? To Lhazar?“

The girl eyed the map and pointed at Lhazar. „The sheepmen live in Lhazar. At least, that is what Jon told me.“

„Jon,“ Ser Barristan said in relief and clutched the girl’s arm. „I thank you, my lady…How can I ever repay you?“

„There is no need,“ she replied shyly. „I think the lord of light sent you to me…Dany is Azor Ahai reborn. She will have need of your protection.“

Barristan didn’t know what to make of the girl’s rambling but thanked her once more for her help. After he had promised to give the Princess her regards, he emptied his cup of ale and returned to his chamber to rest. On the morrow, he would have to inquire about a caravan traveling to Lhazar. Or should he travel by ship and then by land? It was a difficult decision to make.

He also knew that Lord Varys was expecting his answer, but he didn’t trust the Spider more than the Lannisters.

He was playing his game, a game Barristan didn’t want to be part of.

It was the roar of the titan that woke him. Tense from the hard bed, he dressed himself and went downstairs to break his fast on scrambled eggs and a cup of ale. The girls were sad to see him go, but it was easier to find traveling possibilities in the morn when most were still asleep.

That was one advantage Barristan had over the Braavosi. They only rose long past morn while Barristan was used to rise at dawn.

The shipyard was filled with few travelers. There were only sailors and ship hands afoot, attending to their work.

A man of the city guard came to speak to him and pointed at the lone ship with low-hanging sails.

It was a galley with a Westerosi name. _The Sealady._

„Better stay away from that ship, old man,“ the guardsman told him. „This ship was afflicted by the plague. The men aboard spent nearly four weeks in seclusion, but the only way to be sure would be to kill them all.“

Barristan nodded his head and watched as the survivors of the ship were led across the bridge. There were maybe twenty of them, pale-faced with long knotted hair and the smell of sickness clinging to them.

Yet, that was not the only thing that aroused his attention, for one of these men was familiar to him. He had a long face, a northern face, framed by brown hair, yet it was the dirty grey cloak on his shoulder with the snarling wolf that betrayed his belonging.

This man was in the service of Lord Eddard Stark.

Even so, Barristan didn’t dare to speak to the ma at once.

Pulling up the hood of his cloak, he followed after them. They were three of them, but Barristan had no names for them.

They looked exhausted and obviously searching for a place to rest. They tried their luck at the Green Candle, a small tavern not far from the shipyard, where they were promptly thrown out.

„Fuck them!“ Barristan heard the oldest of them curse. „We nearly died on that bloody ship and all this for the Mad King’s daughter. Tell me, Jory? Has Lord Stark lost his mind?“

„She is just a girl,“ the young man called Jory replied and patted his shoulder. „I saw her in Winterfell. Besides, we gave a vow.“

„It is still treason,“ the other man grumbled. „I never thought Lord Stark would break with King Robert. He always called him his brother.“

The third man snorted. „I hold no love for the Targaryens, but no friend threatens to kill his friend’s blood. Jon is a bastard, but he is Lord Stark’s son. Besides, why is he so afraid of some pillow girl and a bastard? They would never gain any support. It sounds to me as if Robert has grown fearful and lazy like the rest of these southron lords.“

„Perhaps,“ the older one said. „But that won’t help us. We have no coin left and to find Jon and his lady, we will have need of it.“

Barristan exhaled deeply and decided it was time to offer his help.

„I think I might be able to help you,“ Ser Barristan said and lowered the hood of his cloak. He felt like a mummer. „I think you might remember my face. I am Ser Barristan Selmy.“

…


	31. Arya

**Arya**

They had been riding for days. There had been days of storm and days of rain and days of sunshine, but Arya was just relieved that she had not been found. Her heart ached when she thought of her brother and lady mother, but she couldn’t stay.

She was not meant for the life of a lady. That was Sansa’s calling, not hers.

 _Robb will be mad with fear_ , the voice of reason inside her head whispered to her, as she curled up on her self-made bed of leaves and brambles. The smell of wood was everywhere around her, filling her nose with the scent of needles and flowers.

Nym’s smell was just as intensive but different. The smell of blood followed her wolf at every step.

Like now.

Rubbing her eyes, she lifted her head and found her wolf watching her with her pair of golden eyes. Between her sharp teeth, she carried a rabbit, fresh and bleeding.

Arya’s stomach made a jump when she saw the rabbit. She hadn’t eaten anything in days, only a handful of berries and nuts.

She also had no tools to make fire, though she appreciated the gesture.

„I cannot eat that,“ she told her wolf and brushed her hand through her thick fur. „It's raw.“

Nym made a wailing sound and feasted upon the rabbit. When Arya’s stomach started to ache, she regretted her choice.

„We need to get going,“ she told Nym. „I remember Maester Luwin’s lessons. If we follow this road we might eventually reach Saltpans. Then, we can board a ship and sail to Essos…to find Jon and Ghost. What do you think of that, Nym?“

Nym gave a wailing sound and raced away, over stone and hills, meadows and the sloping muddy path that seemed to lead nowhere.

Arya was glad that she didn’t have to walk on foot. It had rained too much in the last days and she would probably drown in the mud.

Nym didn’t have the same problem. She could walk all day, hunt and carry Arya at the same time. She was better than one of Harwin’s horses, a dream come true.

And faster too or at least that was what Arya hoped. By now, her brother must have sent out men to search for her and there was always a chance that someone could find her, be it her brother’s men or the Lannisters.

Lannisters. More than once, she had seen the destruction Lord Tywin’s men had left behind when she had gone to the villages to search for food. The fields were nothing but scorched ash, the houses burned and the women so fearful they balked at the sound of a little girl's footsteps.

Today, she had not seen a single soul, but then she was never riding directly on the road. Still, she always kept Needle close, the sword Jon had given to her before his departure.

At times, she couldn’t help but be angry with him for his betrayal, but then he was still her brother. She needed to find him and warn him.

„We ought to rest,“ Arya told the wolf and slipped from her back. The ground beneath her feet was soft and wet. The sky looming ahead was painted in a pale yellow color, the sun slowly rising over the tree crowns. It looked like a boiled egg, which made Arya think of food again.

Her stomach made another jump, as she led Nym deeper into the woods. The soft sound of the wind made the leaves rustle and the bloody streak on the sky roused her attention. It looked like a bloody blade, cutting through the sky.

It was also pointing east, where Jon had traveled with his lady.

Come morn, Arya woke shaking and with an aching stomach. Strangely, she had the taste of blood in her mouth. It was not the first time, she had dreamed of hunting in Nym’s body. In fact, she had dreamed of doing it numerous times since she had left Riverrun.

Yet, when Nym brought her another dead squirrel, Arya got the feeling that there was more to this than just dreams.

Nym’s wail roused her attention. When she lifted her head she noticed that the sky lightening. In a few hours, dawn would come, and then she would finally be able to move on.

But before doing that she went to the nearby brook and washed her face, hair, and dirty fingers. Then, she drank deeply and went to search for berries and nuts. She found a handful of berries and was still licking her fingers when Nym came to find her.

The sun had now fully risen beyond the horizon. She quickly climbed back atop Nym's back, curling her fingers into her thick fur.

Nym moved quickly like always, racing through the wet grass and slipping between the high trees. Arya had never felt safer, though her stomach was empty and her feet felt weak.

They traveled all day, the sound of the birds filling her ears and the smell of Nym filling her nose.

When the first signs of dusk became apparent on the distant horizon, she noticed a change. It was a salty smell that filled her nose. Then, she saw the first seagulls circling the sun, their song accompanying her all the way to the harbor.

There she found galleys, fisher boats, and smaller vessels. The fishers were already out there, preparing for their work, but the merchants and sailors were still lazing around. She found men playing a game of dices, two merchants haggling, and a captain who was sucking on his pipe. The smell of his pipe was sweet and made Arya wince. It reminded her of one of her lady mother’s perfumes.

His ship looked capable enough to carry her across the Narrow Sea, but the captain looked, unlike anything Arya had ever seen. His skin was dark like the night and his beard pink. His garb was just as strange to look upon. His long-sleeved jacket was bright blue and atop his curly hair rested a colorful hat with feathers.

Around him flutters sailors and ship hands, going about their business. Now and then, he shouted a command at them before taking a suck from his pipe. Then, he always unleased a cloud of sweet smoke into the air.

Nym’s presence was enough to make everyone stop their work.

Yet, the captain showed no fear, his black eyes wide with curiosity.

„Is that your beast, girl?“ he asked in a heavy accent.

„She is called Nymeria and she is my direwolf. She is no danger to you or your men.“

The man took a suck from his pipe and smiled. „What do you want from me, wolf girl?“

Arya sucked in a deep breath and jerked her head at his hip.

„Is this your ship?“

„Mine,“ the captain confirmed. „Its called the Rising Sun.“

„A fine name,“ Arya lied. In truth, she couldn’t have cared less what he called his ship. „Do you travel across the Narrow Sea? My wolf and I need to go there.“

The captain laughed.

„Why are you so sure I am sailing anywhere, wolf girl?“ he asked.

„You are loading all this stuff on your ship.“

„You are smart enough,“ the man observed and eyed her more closely. „Your hands are scrawny and your wolf looks hungry. Can you sing or dance? Can your wolf do some tricks to entertain my guests?“

Arya frowned. „Nym can do tricks and I can read and handle sums better than most men.“

The captain laughed. „A learned mind.“

Arya frowned again. „Is that a yes?“

„A yes, wolf girl,“ the man replied and waved his hand at the ship. „And now get your beast and yourself on the ship before I change my mind.“

…


	32. Jon

**Jon**

They departed before the sun had risen beyond the horizon, the river drenched in bright sunlight. The dragons led the way, soaring above their heads.

Jon enjoyed watching them, though he worried about the impending meeting with the Lhazareen. They were strangers to these lands.

Yet, he hoped that everything would work out for the best. For Dany’s sake, they needed a place to stay. The constant travelling wasn’t good for Aemon and Dany.

These thoughts had occupied his mind, as they had continued their travel, passing hills and pastures. Sometimes, they saw a sheep herd grazing on the plains of colorful glass, guarded by shepherds mounted on small hairy horses. Once they came even upon a smaller herd, not more than a hundred sheep, protected by two young children.

“I can see it!” Dany exclaimed, her voice alight with happiness.”Finally.”

Jon tore his gaze away from the dragons and angled his head to look at the city walls rising in the distance.

It surprised him that Lhazosh had walls of stone. The other Lhazareen towns he had seen so far were made of wood and clay.

The city itself was slightly bigger than White Harbour. The outskirts were littered with small wooden houses, sheds and fields. It looked like wheat, corn or barley.

“Finally,” Jon agreed and smiled at Dany. She looked exhausted but was smiling. Aemon gurgled in her arms, his small fingers pulling Dany’s red robes.

The eyes of the Lhazareen followed them as they rode along the dusty road leading to the main gate.

The street was busy. Carts passed, transporting barely and people alike, children were playing their games and a pair of guards gambled inside a small wooden hovel.

All of them stopped their activities when they spotted the dragons soaring over the sky. One woman gasped, a small girl started to cry and a boy pointed at the sky.

Tito led the way, an amused smile playing on his lips while Jon avoided looking at the gaping crowd. Dany was much the same, her gaze fixed on the broad city gates.

The buildings inside the city were made of white stone, some more whole than others. The rooftops, he spotted lush gardens.

It was a beautiful city, but Jon still longed for his home, the snow and winter’s touch on his cheeks. Even in Braavos, he had missed his home, though he tried to suppress these feelings as best as possible. They couldn’t go home. Not with three dragons.

More and more people stopped along the road to get a glimpse at the dragons.

None of them dared to speak to Jon or Dany, though they spoke with Tito.

Some smiled at him and others frowned. It was odd because Jon was unable to understand their language.

They moved along the main road, passed the large statue of a man carrying the staff of a shepherd, a flock of sheep perched beneath his feet before they crossed over a small bridge leading to a different part of the city.

A flock birds fled from the dragons, as they crossed a large courtyard, leading to a broad staircase giving access to the two-storied building with a thatched roof painted in a dull red colour.

A handful of guards, armed with spears appeared from behind the gates, their dark eyes stunned by Tito’s appearance.

A brief exchanged followed. Then, the leader of the guards pulled off his helmet and revealed a sweat-covered face.

The resemblance between Tito and the older man was unmistakable. They shared the same sharp cheekbones and the same straight nose, though his hair was smooth and short, while Tito’s was curled and fell all the way down to his shoulders.

First, the man frowned and then he started to laugh.

They hugged and continued to exchange pleasantries.

Jon didn’t dare to move, his eyes fixed on the dragons circling above their heads.

Tito remained calm as ever and pointed at the dragons.

Loud gasps spilled from their lips and one man dropped his spear.

The leader of the guards was about to open his mouth when a young woman decided to interrupt their meeting. She was tall and had copper-skin, her hair a tangle of braids.

Tito grinned and patted his scabbard.

 _His sister_ , Jon guessed. They had the same eyes, all golden, like running honey.

The woman didn’t smile. Instead, she slapped her brother straight over the face.

Jon had winced and Tito was rubbing his burning cheek.

“May I introduce my sister, Larsha,” Tito said as if nothing had happened.”Don’t be afraid. That was just her way of expressing how much she missed my presence.”

“The slap was well-deserved,” the young woman said in broken Bastard Valyrian.

”Three years, brother. Mother thought you long dead!” she added angrily and eyed in Jon and Dany. ”And now you bring these foreigners here.”

“And dragons!” Tito added with a grin and pointed at the sky.

Larsha lifted her gaze and froze. Then she covered her mouth and remained like this for a long time.

“Did I startle you, sister?” Tito teased and earned himself another slap on the shoulder, though less hard than the first one.

“I am…Hibal,” said the man, who shared Tito’s features.”Tito is my younger brother.”

“A pleasure,” Jon replied politely and Dany followed his example.

Then, she called for the dragon. „Come here!“

At once; the dragons obeyed and landed. Vhagar sat down on his shoulder while Meraxes landed on the ground beside Dany’s feet. Balerion followed Vhagar‘s example and sat down on Dany‘s shoulder, his head rubbing against her neck.

“By the Great Shepard!” Larsha muttered, her eyes wide in shock. ”It’s like in mother’s mad tales!”

“You don’t have to be afraid,” Jon assured them quickly and stroked his hand over the dragon’s head. Ghost was not far, his white fur standing out. ”Neither the dragons nor my wolf will do you harm.”

“I believe you, Jon?” Hibal asked in broken Bastard Valyrian.

“Jon is fine,” Jon confirmed with a smile.

“And I am Dany,” Dany added. ”I am pleased to meet you too. Tito spoke very kindly about his family.”

“He did?” Larsha asked and frowned. ”Well, mother, will be pleased to see you.”

“I sure hope so,” Tito replied cheekily.

Larsha rolled her eyes. ”I was speaking about our guests. You can be happy if our mother even speaks to you.“

“I fought Dothraki,” Tito declared proudly. „I think I can handle our mother.“

Larsha’s face softened a little.

“You are still a fool,” Larsha chided and smiled at Jon and Dany.

“I will bring you to my mother,” she explained and waved her hand at them.”Please follow me.”

The guards parted. Slowly, they descended the steps towards a large wooden door. It opened with a loud groan and revealed a round courtyard, balconies of white wood looming over their heads. Vines were growing along the walls and flowerpots decorated the windows and steps. Jon saw women and children of all ages, watching them curiously.

They ran towards Larsha, pulled on her skirt, and started to ask questions.

They only stopped when they saw Ghost and the dragons.

Some froze in fear and others stared in awe.

“Come along,” Larsha called and chased the children away. She led them up another staircase, leading to a bronze door.”This way. Don’t mind my wild nieces and nephews. You will get used to them.”

Jon couldn’t help but smile. The flock of children made him think of Winterfell and his siblings.

Another staircase followed before they entered a round room, kept warm by two braziers. Elevated above the tables was a high seat, carved out of white wood and covered with the brown pelt.

On the opposing side were two guards, armed with sharp spears and painted shields.

“It seems my unruly son has finally returned,” a soft voice remarked, belonging to a woman that was standing on the other side of the room. She was tall and beautiful, her dark hair streaked with silver, but falling around her shoulders like a waterfall of ink.

She looked very different from the other Lhazareen women. Her skin was pale like snow and her eyes were strangely-formed, very narrow and almond-shaped. Yet, her bright golden eyes betrayed her identity.

This was Tito’s mother.

“I have returned, mother” Tito replied and jerked his head at Jon and Dany.”And I brought guests.”

“I can see that,” Tito’s mother replied and climbed down the steps, her pale robes swishing behind her.

”And dragons,” she added, her eyes wide in wonder as she looked at the dragons. Yet, she remained very calm. ”Truly, these are gracious beasts.”

“How did you hatch them?”

“The eggs hatched after I put them in a burning pyre,” Dany explained vaguely.

“I see,” Tito’s mother said and smiled. ”When I was very young I traveled to Asshai. A wise woman prophesied me that I would see a living dragon within my lifetime. It seems the time has finally come. The Lion of Night will soon be unleashed upon the world.”

Jon was confused by her words but remained polite.

“The Lion of Night?” he asked. ”Is that a myth from Lhazar?”

“From my homeland,” Tito‘s answered. ”Forgive me…I was just elated to see a living dragon...“ she trailed off.

”Now let us come back to the topic at hand. What brings you all the way to Lhazar, my friends?”

“Tito told us we would be welcome among your people,” Jon explained their purpose here. ”The dragons need a safe place. Lhazar is a wide land. We are asking for protection.”

“I understand,” Tito’s mother said, her eyes resting on Dany. ”My son, who rules this city, will not be pleased. His people don’t like outsiders. It took years before they accepted me as one of their own.”

Tito frowned.

“Jon fought at my side against our common enemy, the Dothraki. He is trustworthy.”

“I believe you,” Tito’s mother replied. ”And I will do my best to convince my son. For the time being, you are protected by guest right.”

Jon hoped for more, but it was better than nothing.

“I thank you, my Lady.”

…


	33. Melisandre

**Lady Melisandre**

The burning star’s tail pierced the sky, a bloody streak that reminded her of fire. It was a fitting sign for the return of Azor Ahai and it was even more fitting that their war would start here.

Dragonstone was an old and powerful place. The Valyrians had used all their craftmanship to build this castle in these hostile lands.

Gargoyles rose twelve feet tall. There were hellhounds and wyverns, thousands of them crawling all over the ancient fortress. When she had first come to Dragonstone, she had been uncomfortable in this cold and damp place, but her lord's light burned bright and strong these days.

The comet was his herald.

Mel continued to watch from the battlements, at the crashing sea below. It felt as if the sea and the sky were in a quarrel with each other, like men and women, like darkness and light, like ice and fire. And with the lord’s blessing, they might find a way out of the darkness.

Yet, there were those who did not believe with the same strength as her. Even her chosen king had his doubts, but there were those who could be convinced with words and deeds and others that were hopeless.

One of them was this foolish old maester. Cressen was his name. He was an obstacle in her way for her king held respect for the old man. He needed to be dealt with. The flames had warned her.

She washed and dressed properly before she descended down the swirling steps to the Chamber of the Painted Table. Shuffling along the gallery, she passed a row of tall arched windows with commanding views of the outer bailey, the curtain wall, and the fishing village beyond. In the yard she heard the archers training at the buts and the sound of boots on the wall walks, peering between the gargoyles.

The morning air was filled with the smoke of cookfires, as three thousand men sat down to break their fast beneath the banners of their lords. Past the camp, the anchorage was crowded with ships. His king’s lacking fleet. Yet, Mel knew better than that. The lord of light was her king’s true champion. He would provide him with all he needed.

When she entered the hall, men were already seated around the tables, expecting her to join them.

The chamber of the painted table was a round room with walls of black bare stone and four narrow windows that looked out to the four points of the compass. In the center of the chamber was a great table from which it took it took its name, a massive slab of carved wood fashioned at the command of Aegon Targaryens in the days before the Conquest. Aegon’s carpenters had shaped it after the land of Westeros.

Her king loomed over the stone slab, casting a shadow over half the realm. He was no handsome man. His face was sharp and swarthy. His dark hair was already disappearing and there was seldom a smile on his face nor a warm word on his lips.

Mel had no need for warm words. She had spent half her life as a slave. Doing the Lord’s bidding was more honor than she deserved.

Her king’s dark blue eyes found hers, as she came to stand beside him. The other men in the room watched her both with fascination and fear. Some had already given their hearts to her lord, but not all of them. Some were still doubting her abilities, but they would soon know the truth.

„You are welcome my lady,“ her king said coldly as ever. „And it seems my Onion Knight has found the old man.“

The old man was Cressen, a decrepit old man with grey hair and a balding head. The Onion Knight was also there. He too was mistrustful of her, but he was loyal to her king.

„Once you would have woken me, your grace,“ the old man mumbled.

„Once you were young. Now you are old and sick, and you need your sleep,“ her king replied bluntly. „I assume my Onion Knight told you what has transpired in your absence.“

The Onion Knight nodded his head.

„I did.“

„Well,“ her king snorted and leaned on the table in front of him. „As you know…the Stormlords won’t fight for me. They do not like me, and the justice of my cause means nothing to them. The craven ones are hiding away and the bold ones have already declared for Renly!“

He spat out the last name, as it was tinged with poison

„Your brother has been their lord for many years…,“ the old man began, but her king silenced him with a shaking head.

„By rights, the Stormlands should have been mine!“ her king roared. „I never asked for Dragonstone…Never wanted it! I took it because Robert’s enemies were here and he commanded me to root them out! And what thanks did I receive in turn? He named me Lord of Dragonstone and gave Storm’s End and its incomes to Renly.“

The old man’s heart wept with sadness. Mel could see it by his demeanor. If only he loved her god as much as her king. Oh, what a useful tool he would be!“

„Robert did you an injustice,“ the old man replied. „Yet, he had good reasons. Dragonstone had long been the seat of House Targaryen. He needed a man’s strength to rule here, and Renly was but a child.“

„He is still a child,“ her king roared once more. „A thieving child who thinks to snatch the crown from me. What has Renly ever done to earn the throne? My brother thinks ruling means trading japes with Littlefinger and partaking in tourneys. Tell me, old man. Why did the gods afflict me with brothers like this?“

The old man coughed. „I cannot answer for the gods, but it is as you say…Renly is young and impulsive.“

„Yet, he has the Tyrells!“ her king snorted angrily. „Tell me, what I am king of? Dragonstone and a few rocks in the narrow sea, there is my kingdom.“

Her king descended the steps of his chair to stand before the table, his shadow falling over King’s Landing.

„Tonight, I shall sup with my lord's bannermen: Celtigar, Velaryon, Bar Emmon, all of them traitors. They must have heard of the survival of the Targaryen girl and are probably already plotting behind me. Sure, they will come, but will they offer swords? No, that pirate Salladhor Saan will be drinking my wine while Lord Sunglass is muttering about the will of the seven. What am I to tell them? I have nothing!“

The old man coughed again. „Your true enemies are the Lannisters. You must make peace…“ he began, but her king cut him off again.

„I will not make peace with my treacherous brother,“ her king insisted fiercely. „Not while he calls himself king!“

„Not Renly, then,“ the old man said and coughed once more. „But there are others. Eddard Stark’s son has bent the knee, but perhaps he can be convinced to support you.“

„A green boy,“ her king sneered. „And his father was a traitor. I hold no love for Robert, but he broke his oath for a bastard and the Targaryen girl. Makes me think the Starks are not as honorable as they claim.“

„What of Lady Arryn, then?“ the old man asked. „If the queen murdered her husband, surely she will want justice for him? She has a young son, Jon Arryn’s heir. If you were to offer a betrothal…,“ he began, but her king silenced him once more.

„The boy is weak and sick,“ her king said. „Even his father saw it and asked me to foster him at Dragonstone, but that Lannister woman had him poisoned before it could be done and now she hides away in the Eyrie. She will never part with him. I know so much.“

Her king fell silent and exhaled deeply.

„Why must the rightful king beg?“ her king’s wife asked sharply. She was no great beauty, but her faith was strong.

Her king scowled. „I do not beg, woman.“

„I am pleased to hear it,“ his queen replied. She was as tall as her husband, thin of body and thin of face, with prominent ears, a sharp nose, and the faintest hint of a mustache on her upper lip. Her eyes were pale, but her voice fast like a whip. „Lady Arryn owes you her allegiance, as do the Starks and your brother Renly.“

Her king scowled and looked over to Mel. „My wife speaks of blessings, but it is swords I need!“

„My brothers and uncles and cousins have armies,“ the queen assured him. „House Florent will rally to your banner, my king.“

„Two thousand swords at best,“ he scoffed, his gaze still fixed on Mel. „And you have more faith in your brothers and sisters than I do.“

The lady queen ignored his doubts and walked to the window. „Look at the sky, your grace! The god of light is showing us the way!“

„Your lord gives me no swords,“ the king grumbled once more and looked over to Mel. All these questions had truly been directed at her. She knew so much, but the flames had not shown her a clear path. She had seen the death of Renly, but all visions were like flickering flames. They changed at the whim of fate. Nothing was sure, yet her king needed certainty.“

„I saw Renly’s death, your grace,“ she told him.

Her king looked at her and snorted. The old man gasped.

„Renly…your grace…He is a foolish boy, but whatever follies he committed…,“ he began, her queen wanted to hear none of it.

„And what will you tell him? To go and beg before the Arryn woman and the Stark boy?“

Her king nodded his head in agreement. „I have heard your council, old man. Now leave us.“

The old man left them, broken and bent, but when Mel went to consort her flames once more, she saw his evil intentions.

He wanted her dead. So much she knew, but tonight it was him who would die, not her.

The doors to the great hall could be reached through the mouth of a stone dragon. Her king was seated at the high table and the clatter of plates and knives filled the hall. The ugly fool of the princess rhymed and the flames roared, as Mel sat down beside her king.

She had no need for food or wine tonight. No, the flames had told her to wait for the old maester.

And not long after the first dish had been served, the old man came hobbling into the hall. He nearly fell along the way and it was only with the help of her king’s able knights that he was able to rise back to his feet.

„Maester,“ Mel said and rose to her feet. „You ought to take more care of yourself.“

She clutched her red choker, pulsing with warmth. Her god was with her. She could feel him.

The old man looked at her like she was some terrible beast freed from its cage. He feared her more than the darkness that awaited them all. The Long Night.

„Thank you, my lady,“ the old man stuttered and lowered his head.

„A man your age must look to where he steps,“ Mel added politely. „The night is dark and full of terrors.“

The princess’s fool continued with his rhyme.

„The shadows come to dance, my lord, dance my lord, dance my lord!“

„Now there is a riddle,“ Melisandre jested. „A clever fool and a foolish wise man.“

Smiling, she leaned down to pick up Patchface’s helm to set it on Cressen’s head. The bells rang softly.

„A crown to match your chain, Lord Maester.“

The men were laughing while the old man tried his best to suppress his rage.

„I need no crown but the truth,“ the old man replied, removing the fool’s helm from his head.

Mel snorted.

„There are truths in this world that are not taught in your Citadel,“ she said and walked back to her king.

The old man shifted his attention to Pylos, his assistant.

„Maester Pylos,“ he said. „You did not wake me.“

The younger man blushed. „His Grace commanded me to let you rest. He told me you were not needed here.“

The old man grimaced and looked over the lords assembled around her king. Mel had also learned their names.

There was Lord Celtigar, an old and sour man wearing a mantle with red crabs. Lord Velaryon wore sea-green silk, the white-gold seahorse matching his long silver hair. Lord Bar Emmon was a plump boy of fourteen and Ser Axell Florent was fumbling at his fox fur. Lord Sunglass distrusted her the most, for he preferred his seven gods over the one true god. At last, came the Lysene captain Salladhor Saan and Ser Davos Seaworth, also known as the Onion Knight.

„You are too ill and too confused to give me counsel,“ her king told him. „Pylos will counsel me henceforth.“

The old man blinked, close to tears.

„As you wish, my lord, but…I am not hungry,“ the old man said. „Might I not have a place at your table?“

The Onion Knight made space for the old man, a glint of pity showing in his dark eyes.

„As you wish,“ her king grumbled and turned to look at her. Lady Selyse was also not far, flashing a smile at her.

Mel could not hear what they were talking about, but she knew the old man’s intention.

_He is hoping to put his poison in my cup._

_Foolish old man._

Yet, he tried anyway and addressed his king once more.

„Lord Stannis.“

„King Stannis,“ her queen corrected him. „You forget yourself, Maester.“

„He is old, he is confused,“ the king grumbled. „What is it, Cressen? Speak your mind.“

„Your grace…let me speak once more….it is vital that you make common cause with Lord Stark and Lady Arryn…,“ he began, but her King wanted to hear none of it.

„I make common cause with no one,“ her king replied proudly. „I told you…I have no need for traitors.“

„You are the rightful king,“ the old man stuttered. „But even so, you cannot hope to triumph.“

Mel knew then, that it was time to put the old man in his place.

„He has an ally,“ Mel said. „The Lord of Light, the Heart of Fire, the God of Flame and Shadow.“

„Gods make uncertain allies at best,“ the old man replied and shook his head. „And that one has no power _here_.“

„You think not?“ Mel asked in amusement and touched her burning ruby. „If you will speak such folly, you ought to wear your crown again.“

„That’s enough,“ her king growled. „He is an old man and he served me well.“

Mel smiled at her king while the old man was slipping his poison in the Onion Knight’s cup.

When he was done, he lifted his gaze and smiled at her.

„Mayhaps I have been a fool,“ the old man declared when he was done. „Lady Melisandre, will you share a cup of wine with me? A cup in honor of your god, your Lord of Light? A cup to toast his power?“

Mel returned his smile. „If you wish.“

She met him beneath the high table with every man’s eyes resting upon them. She smiled, as she put her hand atop his own and then around the cup. „It’s not too late to spill the cup.“

„No,“ the old man whispered and shook his head. „No.“

„As you wish,“ Mel replied and took the cup from his hands to drink long and deep. Then, she offered the cup to him. „And now you.“

He was shaking as he drank and spilled wine upon his robes.

Her ruby pulsed and the old man sank to his feet, clutching his throat in desperation.

Mel felt pity for the old man, but there would be many sacrifices made to win this war.

…


	34. Jon

**Jon**

The sun was barely visible behind the thick shrouds of fog blanketing the hills and plains. Lhazar was a vast land, not unlike the North, though the climate was more pleasant. There was not much rain to be had, but when it did, then it poured down on them as if the gods wanted to drown them.

Yet, it was this kind of fog that never failed to fascinate Jon.

Every week, Tito, Jon, and the other men rode out to scout the lands for potential enemies, and every morn they encountered the same thick fog.

“Don’t fret about the fog, friend,” Tito said and pointed at the sky. ”The sun will chase it away soon enough.”

Jon nodded his head and followed after the column of riders. Tito’s oldest brother Mallar, the chief of the city of Lhazosh, was their leader. He was a stern man of thirty and Jon was thankful that he had allowed him and Dany to remain in the city.

“The next town should be the last one before we will finally reach the border to Kosrak,” one of his companions explained. He was one of Tito’s many cousins. By now, Jon was finally beginning to understand bits and pieces of their language, though he still had much to learn.

Dany learned faster than him and was already able to hold conversations with Tito’s kin. Especially, his older sister Larsha seemed to like Dany and dedicated much of her time to educate her in the traditions of the Lhazraeen.

Jon was more than surprised when the young woman had appeared on their doorstep, armed with a bow and spear to take Dany for a hunting trip.

Often enough, Dany returned home with a dead hare, a peacock, and once she had even killed a squirrel.

“Finally,” Tito muttered and straightened himself in his saddle. „First we rest and then we ride back.“

Unlike most Lhazareen towns, the walls were made of brown clay and there were even several watchtowers rising above the outer walls.

Outside the city, they were greeted by the sight of corn and barley fields. The dying sunlight gave the fields the appearance of a sea of gold.

His companions smiled in relief. Jon shared their relief, but he couldn’t help but feel uneasy, as they continued to ride through the town.

Something was different.

The people were far more guarded than usual and the streets were almost deserted.

“What is going on here? Where are your people?” Tito asked an elderly woman, perched on her doorstep and working a spindle. Beneath her feet sat a young girl, who tried to hide behind her grandmother’s back when Ghost’s ruby eyes fell upon her.

“Stay away, boy!” he told his wolf and touched his head. ”You are frightening the little girl.”

Ghost yawned and walked back to his side.

“The women and children left to seek shelter behind the walls of Kosrak,” the elderly woman explained.”And the men went to join the warriors. A Dothraki horde was seen and the chief of the city asked for their assistance.”

“Dothraki?” Tito asked, his voice laced with obvious displeasure. ”Are you sure?”

“Yes,” the woman replied and patted the girl’s cheek. ”We will leave soon, but we have to wait for my son’s return. He is still out on the plains with our herd of sheep.”

“I see,” Tito replied and led his horse along the dusty road. On the outskirts of the city, they found a well. They took care of their horses before settling down on a patch of grass, Ghost curling beside him.

“Shall we ride for Kosrak?” asked one of their companions. He was the youngest of the warriors, though he was still a handful of years older than Tito.

“Not all of us,” Tito explained. ”My brother awaits our report. We have to return.”

Then, he swept his gaze over the group of men, his gaze coming to rest on a scar-faced man.

”Will you go, brother?”

“Of course,” the man replied and rose to his feet. ”I ride for Kosrak and return as swiftly as possible. You should leave as well or you won’t be able to make it back before sunset.”

The man was quick to mount his horse and take his leave from them.

“True,” Tito agreed and lowered his head. It was the way of the Lhazareen warriors to show respect to each other. ”We shall see each other in Lhazosh. Take good care and may the Great Shepard protect you.”

“And the Great Shepard protect you!” the other men shouted ack and left a cloud of dust in his wake.

Jon and the others left not long after.

“Is it uncommon for the Dothraki to come here at this time of the year?” Jon asked his friend, as they passed yet another sheep herd. This one was particularly big, guarded by at least a dozen men and women.

“It is,” Tito replied sourly. ”They usually attack during the dry season. Whatever reason compelled them to attack now…it is not good for us. The harvest has yet to be brought in and knowing the Dothraki they will burn our fields to ash.”

Jon swallowed hard, trying to lift his spirit. Usually, it was the other way around.

“You still have the sheep,” Jon countered. ”They will feed your people.”

“The sheep are not enough,” Tito replied bitterly. ”And the Dothraki will take them too. They take everything from us. It has always been like this. First, they burn our corn, then they steal our cattle and at last, they enslave our people.”

Jon had never heard him speak with such hatred.

The rest of the way was breached in silence, the whispering of the wind their only companion.

Relief washed over Jon when he spotted the familiar white walls of Lazosh.

Dusk was close, the sky streaked with orange and red. The sun was a fat ball of light, soon to be swallowed by the approaching night.

Dany and Larsha greeted them, as they led their horses towards the main gate. They were dressed in hunting gear; knee-length tunics, fastened with a leather belt, and rough-spun pants of wool. Around their shoulders, they carried their bows and their game.

“We didn’t expect your return,” Dany said and brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. It was braided, but the sharp wind never failed to dishevel it. ”Why this haste?”

“We bring bad tidings,” Tito explained for Jon and waved his hand at his men.”I need to report to my brother. We will speak later, Jon. Please excuse me.“

“I see,” Dany said and looked slightly disappointed. Then; she shifted her attention back to Jon.

“It seems we will have hare on the morrow,” she declared proudly and pointed at the dead animal.

“Why on the morrow?” Jon asked in confusion.

“Larsha invited us to eat with her family,” she explained happily and pointed at her departing friend. ”I could hardly refuse after they showed us so much kindness.”

“True,” Jon agreed.”How are the dragons? Did they give you any problems?” he asked, his eyes darting to the sky. There he spotted Vhagar and Meraxes circling over the city gates. They were as big as dogs, but their hot breath was dangerous enough.

“None,” she confirmed. ”But Vhagar missed your presence.”

Jon nodded his head in understanding.

“I will see to him on the morrow,” Jon assured her and led the way towards the city gate. ”I am tired and we shouldn’t let our hosts wait.”

Like always, the children were fascinated by Ghost. At first, they had been terribly afraid, but what Tito had told him about his people turned out to be true. The Lhazareen were quite adaptive.

“True,” Dany confirmed. The way to the chief’s home was not far, though it made Jon uneasy to reside with Tito’s family. He had repeatedly offered to move to another house, but Tito was always able to convince him otherwise.

 _It is better for Aemon to be around other children_ , he had explained, though Jon doubted that was the real reason. Jon had the feeling that Tito felt out of place among his people. The Lhazareen were always polite, but very distrustful towards strangers. Tito was the complete opposite. He was very open-hearted.

“There you are,” Dany greeted Aemon, who sat on the carpet. Not far was one of Tito’s many half-sisters and his father’s second wife, Lilra. Unlike Tito’s mother, she was a full-blooded Lhazareen woman that hailed from the city of Hesh. She was at least ten years younger than Tito’s mother and not as beautiful. Yet, she had a kind smile and adored Aemon. She and several other girls were working their spindles in tandem. Some of them had children of their own, though most of them were younger than Dany.

Aemon gurgled cheerfully when she picked him up. He spent most of his days trying to crawl around, much to Dany’s displeasure. Jon couldn’t help but to marvel how much his son had changed. His blue eyes had already to a light grey color, though Dany claimed to see specks of purple in them. His silver hair had also darkened a little, though Jon doubted it will ever get as dark as his.

“Was he fussing about the milk?“ Dany asked.

“No…he liked the sheep milk,” Lilra explained and smiled at his son. She said more, but Jon was unable to understand it. Dany did and thanked her for her effort before they returned to their quarters.

Their chamber was bigger than the one they occupied in Braavos, but Jon missed the red door he had painted for Dany.

“I will take care of him while you change,” he offered when she pulled off her cloak.

“Thank you,” Dany replied and unfastened her belt. Then, she pulled off her tunic and started to wash with the water they kept in a basin near the cookfire.

Jon avoided looking at her, for it was hard to concentrate on anything else when he saw her naked form and Tito’s mother had told them to at least wait for six moons before sharing a bed again.

When she was done, she pulled on a pale wool dress and fastened it with a belt. On her chest, he noticed the stitching of a wolf and a dragon.

“A new dress?” he asked, as he lifted Aemon back into her arms.

“Yes,” Dany confirmed and smiled proudly. ”I made it myself. Do you like it?”

“I like the wolf and the dragon,” Jon confirmed and pointed at the stitching.

She smiled.

“I made the wolf and Larsha made the dragon,” she explained and jerked her head at the pot of water. ”You should also get a proper wash. You stink.”

Jon frowned. It wasn’t like he was averse to bathing, but Dany had some sort of obsession with being clean. In Volantis, it was supposedly common for everyone to frequent the bathing houses daily.

“I will do as you say,” Jon assured her and got a proper wash. Then, he put on a fresh tunic, his old black breeches, and his riding boots.

Tito’s family had already begun with their meal when they joined them. As honored guests, they were allowed to sit next to Tito and Larsha, though chief Mallar and his family eyed them with mistrust.

Jon tried to ignore it and focused on his meal. It was a simple stew made of sheep meat and wild vegetables. The pastry that followed was even better. It was a cake glazed with honey and filled with nuts. The children went crazy over it and stuffed one piece after another in their greedy little mouths. Ghost was happy to receive leftover meat and was soon peacefully snoring in the corner of the hall.

When everyone was done eating, the children assembled around Tito’s mother like a horde of worshippers.

“Time for a story,” Dany explained and patted Aemon’s head. He was gnawing on his toy, a small wooden horse gifted to him by one of Tito’s nephews.

Jon finally understood. The horde of children had assembled to hear a story.

The sight made him smile. Every day, Old Nan would gather them around the hearth to spin her tales fort hem.

Jon couldn’t help but imagine Bran and Arya seated among these excited children.

“Tell us about the dragonlords!”

“Or about Sage Kings of Ghis!” a boy demanded eagerly.

“I want a happy story…like the one about the lovers Zaal and Rudaba,” a girl chirped dreamily.

“Yesterday was my nameday!” Rostam, chief Mallar’s son, silenced them all. Jon couldn’t help but be reminded of Theon. “It should fall to me to choose the next story.”

His grandmother seemed less pleased with his demand.

“Very well,” she said and smiled at her proud grandson. ”What story do you want to hear, dear grandson?”

“A scary story,” the boy declared loudly. ”I want the story about the Bloodstone Emperor.”

Tito’s mother winced as if the name invoked some long-forgotten fear.

“Very well, but for the sake of our guests, I will recount the story in Bastard Valyrian...I hope you paid attention in our last lessons, dear grandson,” she said and cleared her throat. ”And now I demand silence.“

“Not long before the fall of the Empire of Dawn; the Amethyst Empress ruled over the known world. Begotten by the Opal Emperor she was said to be of unsurpassed beauty. They say the gods fashioned her eyes from two falling stars and that the finest flowers were ashamed to bloom in the presence of her crimson lips. Despite her many admirers she chose no consort to rule at her side. Some say she took a lover, a simple shepherd, but those are mere tales. For hundreds of years, she ruled over the known world, but there was someone who begrudged her for her power. It was her younger brother, later known as the Bloodstone Emperor, who hated and desired his beautiful sister. Some say he was born evil, birthed by a mermaid while others say his descend into madness began after he found a fallen star, the bloodstone. Yet, even before this fateful day, the Prince was known to dabble in the dark arts. Hungry for power, he fashioned himself an army of demons and beasts yet unknown to the world. Some say he was even able to overcome death itself. Thus, a dark shadow was cast over the Empire of Dawn, and soon after the Prince murdered his sister. They say he dismembered her body and gathered her blood to fashion himself a new consort, the Tiger Queen. His usurpation became known as the Blood Betrayal and some say it was this vile deed that brought forth the Great Darkness...”

“But that surely wasn’t the end of the tale, grandmother?” one of the younger girls asked in a trembling voice.

“No,” her grandmother replied and smiled warmly. ”I just need to catch my breath. Now, be still and I will tell you the rest of the tale.”

Tito’s mother exhaled deeply and continued with her tale.

“After the murder of the Empress, the Bloodstone Emperor ascended to the throne and ushered in a century of darkness and terror. They say he enslaved his own people, feasted on human flesh, and dared to cast down the true gods of Yi Ti to worship the bloodstone. Everywhere in the Empire, he built temples and filled them with his dark priests. Yearly he sacrificed thousands of infants to increase his ever-growing army of demons, but eventually, a hero emerged to put an end to his reign of terror. Some say he was the son of the Amethysts Empress, begotten on her by her secret lover and others say he was nothing more than a common man who lost his son to the Emperor’s yearly rituals. Commoner or Prince, it was said that he forged the legendary blade that slew the Bloodstone Emperor. How he was able to forge such a powerful weapon is still shrouded in mystery, but there are many stories, one bloodier than the next. Some say he tamed a dragon and forged the blade in dragonfire while others claim that he plunged the blade in his wife’s heart. I doubt we will ever know the truth, but even the fall of the Bloodstone Emperor wasn’t able to stop the destruction of the Empire of Dawn.”

A long moment of silence passed before one of the children dared to break the silence.

Even Jon had been captivated by the tale. There was something very familiar about it. The Great Darkness seemed to refer to the Long Night, though some aspects of the tale left him confused. Old Nan’s tales mentioned a similar hero, but this was the first time he had heard about this Bloodstone Emperor.

“What happened to hero after the Bloodstone Emperor was defeated, grandmother?” one of the children asked.

Tito’s mother shrugged.

“Nobody knows for sure, but some say he traveled over the sea because he believed that the Bloodstone Emperor wasn’t vanquished after all. Some even say the Bloodstone Emperor still lingers in the world, hoping revenge. As for the hero…the people in my homeland believe he will return when the need arises.”

Disappointment showed on the girl’s face and she opened her mouth to protest, but chief Mallar decided to put an end to the gathering.

“I think it is time to for our dire rest,” he declared and soon the great assembly dispersed, leaving only Dany, Aemon, Jon, and Tito.

“I told you,” Tito said and sipped on a bowl of milk. ”My mother is a great storyteller.”

“She is,” Jon agreed, but was more interested to hear about Tito’s report. ”What did your brother say about the Dothraki threat?

Tito frowned and gritted his teeth.

“He intends to call for an assembly of the tribes.”

“Does that mean there will be war?” Jon asked.

“Don’t make me laugh,” Tito said and laughed. ”The tribes won’t go to war. They will ask him to close the city gates and wait out until the enemy leaves. The last time our people dared to take up arms again the Dothraki they butchered our men and built a heap of corpses. This bloody memory never fails to install fear into my people’s hearts.”

…


	35. Barristan

**Barristan**

The sound of music and the clinking of plates filled his ears, as they entered the bustling tavern. The girls were upon them a moment later, but Barristan chased them away to give the poor Northmen some time to rest.

They had been mistrustful at first, but after Barristan had provided them with a proper supper of mussels and had helped them to fresh clothing, they had stopped questioning his presence.

The idea of a proper sleeping place had enticed them even more and now after they had cut their hair and had donned fresh clothing, they looked no longer like the man that had climbed from this plague-infested ship.

Barristan had forgotten their names, but after they had introduced themselves it was not hard to keep them apart. The oldest was called Harwin, formerly Lord Eddard Stark’s master of horse, his son Alyn and the third one was called Jory. All of them had served in Lord Eddard Stark’s guard and had been sent to Braavos to retrieve Princess Daenerys and Jon Snow.

It hadn't surprised Barristan that Eddard Stark had sent men to save his son from King Robert’s wrath, but he had not expected he would do the same for Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Sure, he had defended her against his King, but then the Mad King had also murdered his family. 

Barristan respected him for that, though the two men seated across him, didn’t seem to share his feelings in this matter. They were still incredibly pale and were constantly licking their fingers when the next dish was brought.

Barristan had barely touched his salmon with lemon, but the Northmen ate without hesitation. The ale seemed to please them even more and Ser Barristan allowed them their peace and happiness. He would probably feel the same way if he had spent the last weeks locked up on a ship.

„You have come a long way, Ser Barristan,“ the man named Harwin said after he had emptied his cup of ale. „To find a Princess.“

„Not just a Princess,“ Ser Barristan replied and brushed his hand over his ever-growing beard. „There are also rumours of dragons and I think I know where the Princess and Jon Snow went.“

The man called Jory eyed him with mistrust. „It is not that we are not grateful for your help, but you have yet to tell us how you ended up here. Are you no sworn to your King? What of Lord Stark?“

Ser Barristan exhaled deeply and eyed his cup, as he pondered how he would tell these poor men that their Lord had been sent to the Wall.

„Lord Eddard is no longer Hand of the King,“ Barristan explained. „And has been accused of treason. As a consequence, he was sent to the Wall while his son and heir Robb Stark has made peace with the Lannisters. That is the last thing I heard after I have been relieved of my duty by King Joffrey. Thus, I ended up here on an errand to find Princess Daenerys Targaryen.“

Alyn frowned and picked a handful of meat from his plate to place it into his mouth. He added a spoon full of potatoes and sucked on the lemon. He grimaced at the taste before speaking his mind.

„You waited long before you decided to search for your Princess,“ he said. „What if Joffrey had not dismissed you? Would you have ever wasted a thought on the girl?“

The young man’s words cut deep, but he was right. He was a stranger and there was no reason they could trust him.

„I thought myself a man of honour,“ Barristan replied. „Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps I should have died with my brothers at the Trident.“

„Do not listen to Alyn,“ Harwin grumbled and slapped his hand over the younger man’s shoulder. „He likes to council people on honour, but he is still a green boy who knows nothing of the world. We are thankful for your help, Ser Barristan, but you must understand…We vowed to find Jon Snow and Princess Daenerys, though it goes against everything we know. We must be sure that you are no longer serving the Lannisters.“

Barristan nodded his head in understanding.

„I would never harm Princess Daenerys nor Jon Snow,“ he promised and laid his hand on his breast. „I swear it by the little honour I have left.“

Alyn frowned, Jory continued to nibble on his cup of ale and Harwin smiled sadly. „It seems we are all in the same boat. Tell us, where did Jon Snow and Princess Daenerys go?“

„They supposedly fled to Lhazar,“ Barristan replied vaguely. „A red priestess told me.“

„Lazar,“ Jory muttered to himself. „That’s far in the east…Gods, that looks like a long journey.“

„Indeed,“ Ser Barristan replied. „A long and dangerous journey.“

„And you trust this priestess?“ Jory asked.

„The girl claimed she was there when Princess Daenerys hatched three dragons,“ Ser Barristan replied what he had heard. „And half the city is abuzz with rumours about it. I do not think she was lying.“

„Dragons and red priestesses,“ Harwin grumbled. „What comes next? Flying sheep?“

„I hope not,“ Ser Barristan chuckled. „But I heard the inhabitants of Lhazar are fond of sheep. Well, I think the best course of action would be to travel together…as we seem to have the same goal.“

„Indeed,“ Jory agreed and pushed his plate aside. „But first we must rest and prepare…We do not know anything about this place. Sadly, the customs officers stripped us of all our valuables and now we are in dire need of help.“

Ser Barristan smiled and lifted his cup. Luckily, Varys had given him enough coin. An act of kindness, but Barristan knew better. The Spider was playing his own game. „I think I can help with that!“

They were all a little drunk when they retired. Barristan had his own chamber because he was sure the Northmen wanted their privacy, though it had cost him a handful of more coins.

Barristan was also the first one to rise. _Always with the birds_ , like Ser Gerold Hightower used to jest, but it gave him time to take care of his amour and take another look at his map. He was also enjoying a meal of scrambled eggs with mint and a cup of ale.

That he finally had a plan and had won three travelling companions only added to his satisfaction. It would make it easier to win Jon Snow’s trust if he brought men with him that had served Lord Stark.

„Good Ser,“ a man with a thick Braavosi accent addressed him. „May we speak?“

Ser Barristan lifted his gaze, his hand immediately dropping to the blade across his lap.

There were six men. The leader was garbed in golden robes, his elegant moustache decorated with golden rings and his eyes painted with a black shade. Fastened at his hip, Ser Barristan noticed a slender blade and the laughing faces on his vest and his silver buckles told him that he belonged to the Sealord of Braavos.

„What can I do for you, my lord?“

„I am no lord,“ the man replied curtly and lowered his head in reverence. He gave no name.“And I am here to speak with you on behalf of my lord, Tormo Fregar.“

„Tormo Fregar,“ Ser Barristan repeated in confusion. „What could your lord want from me?“

The man smiled.

„To speak with you about Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Your friends are also welcome.“

…


	36. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Within the blink of a moment, the meat was devoured by Vhagar’s and Baelerion’s flames. Their fire was growing stronger and hotter by every day, though they were not bigger than small ponies.

Quickly, Balerion snapped his head forward and tore a piece of meat out of the animal’s body. The other two dragons followed suit, feasting on the blackened piece of meat.

“They are hungry as ever,” Jon remarked quietly, his dark eyes fixed on the dragons.

“Aye,” Dany confirmed and rose to her feet. Jon remained seated and took her hand, a gentle smile playing on his lips.

“Is something amiss?” she asked him and squeezed his hand.

“It's a full moon,” he said and pointed at the sky. A fat autumn moon hung over the dusky horizon, streaked in red and velvet.

“I can see that,” Dany replied, a little confused by his words. There was nothing special about a full moon.”What are you trying to say?”

“I will tell you,” Jon assured her with another smile. ”But we should hurry before they close the gates.“

Dany was confused and amused by his secrecy.

“Then let’s go,” she replied and returned his smile.

They rode here together, though Dany knew by now how to handle a horse. Larsha took her for daily rides and Jon took her hunting whenever he had time to spare. She also liked that, because out in the wilderness they could be alone.

Usually, it was her idea to go hunting, but Jon had asked her to join him. It had warmed her heart to hear this, for she had missed him whenever he had left to ride out with Tito’s men. Especially, with the sighting of this Dothraki horde, she had worried about him.

They rode for another hour, passing hills and plains of green and yellow pasture. Night had fallen when they arrived near a small wooded area. Dany had never dared to venture this far from the city, but Jon seemed completely at ease.

“It beautiful here, isn’t it?” he asked and climbed from the saddle. Dany was still confused, but it was true. This piece of land was indeed very beautiful. Everywhere she looked she found rich green grass, old trees, bent and crooked, but beautiful in their own way. Especially, the red flowers growing here and there gave their surroundings the appearance of a painting.

“Very beautiful,” she agreed and felt a soft breeze touching her cheek. A pair of butterflies soared over the high grass, right above Ghost’s head. The wolf seemed bothered by their presence and chased them away. ”But do you really think this is a good place to hunt?

“I will show you,” he told her and pulled her along through the grass towards the woods. The whispering of the wind could be heard as they stumbled through the thick underwood. The trees looked ancient, their trunk as thick as a fully-grown man.

At last, they stopped near a clearing. The beauty of it left her gasping for air. There was a massive tree, its bark pale like snow and its leaves painted in different colors of yellow and red.

“I promised you a pretty tree, didn’t I?” Jon asked her and smiled proudly.

Finally, she understood the meaning of his words.

„But we are already married,“ she said and smiled at him. „Remember?“

He returned her smile and slung his arm around her shoulder.

“Of course, but I kept looking for the perfect tree and a week ago I finally found this one. This one looks a bit like a weirwood tree…the bark has a similar color, though the leaves of a weirwood tree are much brighter. They also have faces like this.”

“Truly?” she asked, fascinated. ”Who would carve faces into a tree?”

“Old Nan used to tell us that it was the work of the Children of the Forest,” Jon explained. He always lost his serious demeanor whenever he spoke about his family and home, though it was seldom enough that he spoke about his family. She had met his brother Robb, but she couldn’t bring herself to like him. She knew that he had four other siblings, but she only knew the name of his younger sister, the one that very dear to him. Arya she was called and she liked playing with swords.

“That sounds interesting,” Dany added and jerked her head at the tree. ”Is there some sort of ceremony?”

“There is,” Jon confirmed and led her closer to the tree. ”Usually it is just an exchange of vows, though I don’t recall the exact wording. The truth is…I have never attended a real wedding. My Lord Father never took his bastard to a wedding,” he continued to explain.

“Then, we shall do what you can remember,” she assured him and lifted his hand to her lips.

“We can make up vows if you don’t recall them. Let me try…I swear before the gods and that this man is mine and I am his… from this day till the end of our days,” she continued and blushed. ”I am fond of poetry, but as you can see…I am no great poet. What do you think of my vows?”

He chuckled and pulled her closer. ”I like it. I swear before the gods that this woman is mine and I am hers. From this day, until the end of our days,” Jon declared and kissed her eagerly.

When their kissing grew too heated, Jon stopped himself and pulled away.

„We are not done yet.“

Dany gave him an encouraging smile.

“Usually, the bride and groom kneel beneath the weirwood tree to receive the blessing of the old gods, but that wouldn’t make much sense here. This tree is not dedicated to the old gods,” Jon explained.”But I have something else for you. A gift.”

“A gift?” Dany asked in surprise. ”For me?”

“Tito said it is common among his people to give each other gifts on their wedding day,” Jon explained and let go of her hand. Then, he made his way back to his horse and searched through his hunting gear. Only when he stepped into the moonlight was she able to make out what he had searched for.

“A bow,” she said and marveled at its beauty. It was made of a pale bark…like the tree. ”Is it made from the same wood?”

“Exactly,” Jon replied and held the bow out to her. ”I thought it a fitting gift.”

Dany stared at him for a long time, speechless. After a while, she finally found her speech.

“I don’t have a gift for you,” she said, moved by his gift. Tears were burning in her eyes.

“Gods…please don't cry,” Jon said and frowned. ”I didn’t know that this gift would upset you…besides you already gave me a gift.”

“I have?” she asked in confusion. ”What gift did I give you?”

“Our son,” Jon replied and smiled warmly. ”I never thought I would have a son of my blood, but that is not the only gift. Without you, I would be at the Wall, alone and forgotten. I never thought I would have a family…at least not like this.”

Dany didn’t know what to say. She could only stare back at him in disbelief.

“I am your family?” she asked, searching his long face.

“Of course you are,” Jon assured her and brushed his hand through her locks. ”Now take your gift. I am sure you will make good use of it.”

“I will,” Dany assured him in a trembling voice and took the bow from his hand. It was a slender thing, the wood soft and smooth like a polished sword. It was a far too precious gift and she treated it as if it was a precious jewel.”I will.”

Smiling, she walked back to her horse and placed the bow in her bag.

Then, she turned around and pulled off her cloak. Beneath, she only wore her wool dress and sandals.

He smiled at her as drew closer, his hand brushing through her hair. It was slowly growing back to its old length, though she doubted he cared about that.

She leaned closer. He wrapped his arms around her and touched her shoulder.

“Are you sure?” Jon asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Aye,” Dany confirmed and kissed him, slow and gentle. His grip tightened on her shoulders as he deepened the kiss. Together, they stumbled to the ground, the grass soft, almost like a featherbed.

His body sank on top of her, as they continued to kiss, his thigh sliding between her legs. This familiar feeling of warmth stirred inside her.

Carefully, he opened the buttons of her dress and pulled it aside. He kissed her breasts, before moving lower. His warmth breath tickled her stomach.

“What are you doing?” Dany asked him in confusion. ”Are you trying to find out if I am ticklish?”

Jon chuckled.

“Just an idea,” he continued and pushed up her dress.

Jon laughed again, his breath tickling the inside of her thighs. ”Have a bit of patience.”

“Patience…,” Dany muttered, her words being swallowed by a gasp. The soft-touch of his mouth down there was a foreign sensation that threatened to overwhelm her. She had to close her eyes close, as the current of pleasure washed over her. They had thought her how to pleasure men like this, but she had never known that it could be the other way around.

“Jon!” she called and grabbed his hair, pulling hard. Yet, he didn’t stop or maybe he wasn’t able to hear her. Maybe her voice had died in her mouth. It was almost too much, the warm sensation overwhelming, as the next wave of pleasure came crashing down on her.

She was still struggling for breath when Jon lifted his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were dark, glinting like coals in a brazier.

“Who thought you that?” she asked, both curious and still stunned.

“No one,” Jon replied, his voice lith with amusement. “I just wanted to kiss you there. Did you like it?”

It was such a silly question, but she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Of course I liked it…it is just…they thought us such things in the place I grew up…it is strange seeing a man do it,” she tried to explain her thoughts and slipped her hand down to touch him.

“Well, I suppose that is a compliment,” Jon said slightly sardonically, though she was sure he was just jesting.

“I meant it,” Dany replied and gave him a playful slap on the shoulder.

He laughed and she silenced him with a kiss. He returned the kiss and allowed her to sit on top of him.

She felt no pain as she mounted him. It felt right and she savored the sensation. Yet, it was the warmth in his eyes that overwhelmed her. She knew then that his words were not empty talk. He meant it when he said that she is part of his family.

Even after he had collapsed next to her, she still felt his hands stroking through her hair. There was so much she wanted to tell him, but whenever she opened her mouth she was unable to find the right words.

“Jon,” she asked of him. ”Tell me about your home.”

Jon lifted his head, surprise apparent on his face.

“What brought this on?”

“Nothing,” she assured him quietly. ”I should know about your family. Maybe we will go back there one day.”

He beamed.

“You think that is possible?”

“Yes,” she answered and averted her gaze. ”But it would be hard to accomplish. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”

Instantly, his face changed back to its usual solemn expression.

“The dragons would never be tolerated in the North,” he told her and kissed her brow.”But I am not Aegon the Conqueror nor do I want to be. I don’t want to drench the Seven Kingdoms in blood just to win a crown that doesn’t belong to me. I would have to fight my own brother and uncle. I can’t do that.”

“I never asked that of you,” she replied. ”But the dragons will continue to grow. There will be people who will try to take them from us.”

“True,” Jon agreed unhappily. ”And that is why we need to learn to control them. I said I don’t want to be Aegon the Conqueror, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fight those who want to harm us.”

“Us?” she asked, his words alarming. ”What do you mean?”

“I am talking about the Dothraki,” Jon told her, his voice taking an almost icy tone. ”You have not seen what they do. I will not sit idle while they rape and murder people who have shown us nothing but kindness.”

“The dragons are still small,” she countered fearfully. ”Arrows could hurt them.”

“True,” Jon said and shrugged his shoulders. ”But the Dothraki are also hot-headed. We could lure them into a trap.”

She frowned. She had never seen a real battle. Yet, she didn’t want to be afraid.

_I am the blood of the dragon._

“And you think we could really win?”

“Maybe,” Jon replied. Then, he shrugged his shoulders. ”Though the dragons wouldn’t be enough. I would need the help of Lhazareen warriors, but Tito thinks that the tribes won’t fight. Besides, why should they trust a foreigner?”

“Jon,” Dany said at last and intent to returned to. ”Tell me about Winterfell…tell me about your home.”

A moment of silence passed between them, but then he nodded his head.

“What do you want to know?”

She pondered his question and pursed her lips.

“Tell me about Arya.”

...

She woke when the first sunlight fell through the slanted windows. Jon was still asleep, his warm body nestled beside her. Carefully, she rose from her bed and pulled on a robe.

Quietly, she made her way to Aemon’s crib and found him still asleep. It was no surprise. He hardly ever woke before the sun had risen to the sky. It would be no problem to slip away for an hour and Jon knew how to feed him with sheep milk.

Out on the corridor, she met several of Tito’s relatives. She greeted them and made her way up the curving staircase.

Upon her entrance she found Tito’s mother at work, squashing leaves with a pestle. She was also devoid of her usual pale robes and garbed in a green dress. The front was covered with old stains of blood and other substances she was unable to identify. It was not the first time that she came here, but her collection of books, herbs, and other strange utensils never failed to fascinate her.

When Tito told her that his mother is some sort of a midwife she expected one of these women who came to Lady Meema’s brothel, but it was clear to her that Tito’s mother was more than a common midwife. Never once did she see a midwife keeping notes on her patients or able to mix complicated potions like this. Whoever thought her must have been a professional one like one of the Maesters Jon told her about.

“There you are, child,” she greeted her and graced her with a smile.

“I have your potion over here,” she added and rose to her feet, before making her way to a small table filled with all kinds of bottles. They were marked with foreign signs of black ink.

“This one is yours,” Tito’s mother remarked and handed her a blue bottle. When she first came here she expected to get something bitter like moon tea, but the teas she received from Tito’s mother tasted almost like common tea. She felt the urge to ask her more questions. She knew next to nothing about her body besides what other girls told her.

“Is something wrong, child?” Tito’s mother asked, worry written all over her face. ”You look pale. Was the last tea too strong?”

“No,” she assured her quickly, trying to overplay her insecurity. Then she bit her lips, torn between baring her fears to her. She was a woman, if anyone would understand her it would be someone as kind as her. ”I just wondered…you know much about childbirth, don’t you?”

She gave her an amused smile.

“I brought more than a thousand children into the world,” she replied, though not pridefully.”I think I know what I am doing, child. Do you want me to take a look at you?”

Dany didn’t know why, but she felt a little embarrassed.

“Look at me?”

“Yes,” she confirmed. ”I assume the birth of your boy wasn’t the most pleasant experience?”

Dany was stunned.

“How can you tell?”

“Your hips,” she replied as if it was all too clear. ”You are rather young. How old are you?”

“Nearly ten and seven,” she answered. ”What do my hips have to do with my age?”

“You are still growing,” she explained and patted on a cushioned seat on the floor. ”Some bodies need longer to be prepared for the trials of childbirth, though some stubborn husbands do not understand that.”

Dany settled down on the cushioned seat but felt the need to defend Jon.

“He didn’t force me into anything…I wanted Aemon…I just didn’t know that it would be this difficult,” she explained honestly.

“All births are painful,” Tito’s mother explained. ”But there is a difference between painful and deadly,” she continued to explain and pulled up her dress. Gently, she spread her legs and inspected her closely. Dany tried not to wince, but soon she forgot about her discomfort.

“Did you bleed?” Tito’s mother asked and lifted her head to meet her gaze.

“Aye, quite a lot,” she confirmed anxiously.

“I see,” she replied and patted her knee. ”I am surprised you are still alive. It is as I thought. Your hips are yet too small.”

“Yet?”

“Don’t fret, child,” Tito’s mother assured her and pulled the skirt back down. ”You are completely healthy, but I would advise having another child in the next two years. By then you should be grown enough. And my tea has yet to fail me.”

Dany nodded her head in understanding.

“How do you know all this?”

Tito’s mother laughed and made her way to the hearth. She picked the pot of steaming water from the fire and filled it into two cups placed on a nearby table. Then she rose on her tiptoes and picked a handful of herbs from the bundle hanging above her head. She smashed the herbs between her hands and put them into the tea.

Then, she settled down in front of Dany and handed her a cup.

The tea smelled like perfume, a mixture of lavender, and something earthy.

“You are a curious child,” she remarked and sipped from her tea. ”No wonder Tito likes you and your husband.”

“As to your question,” she added and placed the cup on the ground beneath her feet.”My Father was a bó shì …a doctor at court…a healer. That is how I learned.”

“Court?” Dany asked. ”I don’t know much about Yi Ti…You have an Emperor if I am not mistaken?”

“The God-Emperor,” she said. ”But don’t be mistaken…it is not an empty title. They do actually think of him as a god. It is a ridiculous notion…as he is mortal like any other human being. My Father used to treat his bowel problems. I doubt a god would have problems emptying his bowels.”

“You don’t seem to like him very much,” Dany remarked and couldn’t help but to chuckle. She tried to imagine a god, being planted to his pot all day long. It was a ridiculous thought and she quickly brushed it away. ”And I wonder…How did you end up here if your father held such an important position?”

A bitter smile showed on her lips, but she answered nonetheless.

“My father was not only a bó shi but also a tài jiàn …an eunuch…a man without a cock…he started out serving the God-Emperor’s many wives. No man with a cock is allowed in their presence…the same goes for doctors.”

“But how…,” she countered, but Tito’s mother was quicker.

“My mother was called Lady Sun…she was the daughter of the third Prince, but my father was a lowly court official. Both perished young and I was adopted by my Father who carried the surname Zhu. My full name is Zhu Yingtai…a silly name given to me by my sentimental father. He named me after the tragic heroine of his favorite tale, though he later claimed it was because I had a similar thirst for knowledge like her. Well, my father was a well-respected man but fell victim to court intrigue. They executed him and I was sold into servitude…I rather not tell you the detail about these trials. Eventually, I escaped and came here. The people mistrusted me at first, but Tito’s father was much like my son, very curious...I think you can imagine the rest of the tale.”

“I think I can,” Dany replied. ”I think I understand better than you know.”

“You are lucky you know,” Dany added and rose back to her feet. ”I didn’t love Tito’s father…I married him because I had to survive. He liked me and so I played along. You can choose your path. I envy you a little, though I love my family and my husband was good to me. Tito told me that you are Princess…my mother was disinherited for marrying a lowly court official.”

“Jon is no commoner,” Dany corrected her. ”He is a Prince…at least that is the way I see it. He is my brother’s son…who was once meant to be a King, even though he was the son of his second wife.”

Understanding showed on her face.

“Don’t tell that to the others…they would think it strange for relatives to be wed. It doesn’t bother me, because my relatives are similar, especially the nobles. The God Emperor’s head wife is his half-sister.”

“I won’t,” she assured her and straightening her dress.

“I wonder,” Tito’s mother remarked. ”Now that you have dragons…Will you try retaking the throne that your family lost?”

“Jon says he is no Aegon the Conqueror…he doesn’t want to drench the Seven Kingdoms in blood,” she recounted his words to her. ”I think he just doesn’t’ want to use the dragons for revenge, though he thinks we should use them to fight the Dothraki.”

“Fight the Dothraki?”

“Aye,” Dany replied proudly. “Jon thinks we could lure the Dothraki in a trap.”

“A trap,” Tito’s mother mused.”You seem to have a lot of confidence him him, don’t you?”

“I do, even if others don’t,” she replied confidently and picked the bottle from the table.

Then, she stopped and gave her a last smile.

“I thank you, for your efforts. I will heed your advice.”

…


	37. Cat

**Cat**

Cat was woken by the wicker oft he horses. Then, she heard Ser Wendel’s voice, shouting some command at his squire.

Still exhausted, she rose from her bed and brushed her hair out of her face. She had dreamed of Winterfell, but she was far away from home, on her way to meet with King Renly to convince him of Robb's plan.

With quick movements, she braided her hair and fastened her cloak around her shoulders. Then, she slipped out of the tent and found Shadd, Ser Wendel’s squire, stirring oats in a kettle.

Ser Wendel was beside him, stringing his bow.

„My lady,“ he greeted her. „There are birds in the grass…a roasted quail to break our fast would be a lovely thing, no?“

Cat shook her head in disapproval. She had no time for fancy food. They needed to reach Renly before it was too late.

Robb depended on her.

„Oats and bread should be sufficient enough. We have yet many leagues to ride.“

„As you wish,“ Ser Wendel replied. He sounded disappointed. „Oats and bread it is.“

Cat sat down beside Shadd, who offered her a cup of tea and oats.

Cat blew on the tea to ease the heat, but it was no use. It took another handful of moments before she could drink. All the while, she was watching the men dress and break their fast over two cookfires.

In total, they counted twenty men, but so far they had not been harassed. Sure, they had seen bands of mailed men and more than once they had glimpsed smoke on the eastern horizon, but so far one had attacked them.

„I am sure we will reach the upper Mander today, my lady,“ Ser Wendel told when he was done with his cup of tea. „Lord Renly will not be far if the rumors are true.“

„King,“ Cat corrected the man quickly. She hadn’t seen Renly Baratheon since he was a young boy, but she was sure he would not like it if they refused to call him by his proper title. „He is a King.“

„Of course,“ Ser Wendel grumbled and grimaced at the oats. „I shan't forget about it again, my lady.“

Cat smiled and put her empty bowl away. She had scarcely tasted the porridge. „It is time we are on our way.“

Not long after, she mounted her grey horse, Hallis Mollen riding beside her and bearing the banner of House Stark, the grey direwolf on a white field.

They were still a half day’s ride from Renly’s camp when they were found. Robin Flint had ranged ahead and had returned in company of Renly’s outriders, twenty men mailed and mounted, led by a grizzled greybeard of a knight.

„My lady,“ he greeted. „I am Ser Colen of Greenpools, my lady. These are dangerous lands you cross.“

„My business is urgent,“ Cat replied. „I come as an envoy for my son, Robb Stark, to treat with King Renly.“

„King Renly is the crowned and anointed lord,“ Ser Colen agreed. „His Grace is encamped with his host near Bitterbridge, where the roseroad crosses the Mander. It is my pleasure to escort you to him.“

Cat lowered her head in thanks. „I thank you, my lord.“

They saw the smoke of the cookfires from afar before the clatter of a thousand men filled her ears. The horse lines alone stretched over leagues. There were also great siege engines lining the grassy verge of the roseroad. There were even more pavilions and men in mail and dressed in fine clothing.

„This is a fearsome lot of men,“ Ser Wendle said beside her, as they crossed the ancient stone spat from which Bitterbridge took ist name.

„True.“

Cat had expected to find the golden stag, but everywhere she looked, she saw the golden rose of Highgarden flapping and fluttering from the green silk banners that adorned lance and pike, painted upon the shields on the pavillions of the many seeds of House Tyrell. Cat recognized the fox-and-flowers of House Florent, the green and red apples of House Fassoway and Lord Tarly’s striding huntsman and so many more…

Across the Mander, she finally saw the Stormlords, sworn to House Baratheon. There were Bryce Caron’s nightingales, the Penrose quills, Lord Estermon’ts sea turtle, yet for every crest she saw, there were a dozen strangers, hedge knights, and free riders.

Renly’s own standard flew high over all of them. It was big enough to carpet many a hall, made of shimmering gold with the black stag of Baratheon prancing proud and tall.

„Do you hear that?“ Hallis Mollen asked. „What is that?“

She listened once more, as they were riding up a gentle slope towards a line of brightly-colored pavillions. As they passed between them, the press of men grew thicker and the shouting even louder.

Then she saw it.

Below, beneath the stone-and-timber battlements of a small castle, a melee was in progress.

A field had been cleared and fences and galleries had been erected. Hundreds had gathered to watch, no thousands.

Less than a score of knights had remained ahorse, charging and slashing at each other as watchers and fallen combatants cheered them on. She saw two riders collide in full armor and another one slither through the mud after he had been frown from his horse.

„A tourney,“ Hallis Mollen said in obvious surprise.

„How splendid,“ Ser Wendel added, as a knight in a rainbow-striped cloak wheeled to deliver a backhand blow with an ax that shattered the shield of the man pursuing him and sent him kissing the mud.

„If you please wait here,“ Ser Colen said. „I shall inform our King about your presence.“

Cat waited and watched. A roar washed over the crowd when a red-bearded man with a griffin on his shield went down before a big knight in blue armor. His mount showed the quartered sun-and-moon of House Tarth.

„Red Bonnet’s down,“ she heard someone say.

„ Ser Loras will make him pay,“ another man added.

Quick enough, another man was felled by the blue knight while Cat was left speechless at so much foolishness. They were at war and Renly was holding a tourney.

The lords and ladies were engrossed by it all. She recognized Lord Mathis Rowan, below him Lady Oakheart, and to her left Lord Randyll Tarly. Others she knew only by their crests displayed on their clothing.

Among them sat a ghost with a golden crown.

It was no wonder that King Robert’s bannermen were gathering around him, for he looked like Robert come again: Renly Baratheon was handsome: long of limb, broad of shoulder, with the same black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes and the same easy smile.

The golden crown resting atop his head was even more beautiful to behold. It was made of green jade, adorned with golden eyes and golden antlers.

The girl who shared the high seat with him was his Queen Lady Margaery Tyrell. She was pretty enough, with doe eyes and a mane of curling brown hair that fell around her shoulders in lazy ringlets.

Her smile was sweet and shy.

She clapped with the crowd, as the last four opponents met each other on the field of battle. It was then that she first laid eyes on Loras Tyrell.

He rode a tall white stallion in silver mail and fought with a long-handled ax. The other two survivors made common cause. They spurred their mounts towards the knight in the blue armor, but it was not as easy as it appeared. The blue knight stopped his horse and smashed one knight full in the face with his splintered shield while his black horse dashed out with hoof at the other. In the blink of a moment, one combatant was kissing the ground. Satisfied with his victory, the blue knight dropped his shield and met his last opponent: the Knight of Flowers.

Both moved quickly, his rainbow cloak fluttering around him like the wings of a bird.

The black and white horse danced around each other for a long time, long ax against morning star. Without a shield, the blue knight was at a disadvantage. Over and over again, Ser Loras’s shield. Soon enough the shield was battered and useless.

A heartbeat later, the long ax caught the blue knight’s hand on the backswing and sent the morningstar flying from his grasp.

The crowd gasp and the Knight of Flowers lifted his weapon for attack. The blue knight showed no fear and the stallions slammed together, the blunted axehead smashing against the blue knight's breastplate.

Yet, the blue knight managed to grab Ser Loras' arm and wrenched it free from Ser Loras‘ hands. Suddenly, the two knights were grappling mount-to-mount. As the horses pulled apart, they crashed to the ground with great force. The Knight of Flowers below took the brunt of the impact.

All the while, the blue knight slipped his dirk free and pulled open Ser Loras' visor.

The roaring of the crowd was too loud to hear what they could say, but she saw blood on Ser Loras‘ lips.

The blue knight walked on unsteady feet and knelt before his king.

„Tarth!“ some shouted. „A Beauty! A Beauty!“

„Your Grace,“ the knight said and pulled off his dented helmet. „I thank you.“

Renly smiled at the knight.

„You are all your lord father claimed you were,“ the King praised. „I have seen Ser Loras unhorsed more than once…but never quite in this fashion.“

The crowd didn’t seem to share the King’s high opinion of the knight of Tarth.

„Who is that?“ Cat asked Ser Colen.“And why are they so unpleasant towards him?“

Ser Colen grimaced. „This is no man, my lady. That’s Brienne of Tarth.“

Cat stared back at the knight in horror. „ A Daughter?“

Cat watched as King Renly declared the lady the victor oft he great melee and promised her a boon.

„Your Grace,“ the lady answered. „I ask the honor of a place among your guard. I would be one of your seven and pledge my life to yours, your grace.“

The crowd laughed and Cat understood why. Brienne of Tarth was no great beauty. Her eyes were large and blue, her hair a bird’s nest of golden hair, and her features were coarse and broad, her teeth wide and crooked. A thousand freckles covered her cheeks, brows, and her nose.

Pity filled Cat’s heart for this ugly girl.

Yet, when Renly cut away her cloak and fastened the rainbow cloak in place, she smiled and looked almost pretty.

It was then, that Ser Colen climbed down from his horse to introduce her.

„Your Grace!“ Ser Colen shouted. „I have the honor to bring you the Lady Catelyn Stark.“

King Renly looked surprised but smiled.

„Lady Catelyn?“ he asked and turned to his young queen. „Margaery my sweet, this ist he Lady Catelyn Stark of Winterfell.“

„You are most welcome here, Lady Stark,“ the girl said softly. „Most welcome.“

„I hoped so much,“ Catelyn replied and noticed that the blue knight was glaring at her. She quickly minded her manners and dropped a curtsy. „I am here on my son’s bidding…I bring important tidings…Would you hear me now that your tourney is done?“

If Renly was displeased, it didn’t show on his face. He only smiled.

„Do you not enjoy tourneys, my lady?“ he asked and leaned back in his seat. „Well, you are quite right…the tourney is done. I finally have my seventh sword and now as a King should I shall rest and hear what you have to say.“

„Why is Robb Stark sending his mother here?“ Tarly grumbled. „Is he too afraid to come himself?“

Cat was taken back by the man’s bluntness but quickly regained her composure. „Robb is fighting a war.“

Renly grinned. „Careful, Lord Randyll. I fear you are outmatched.“

Then, he rose to his feet and waved his hand at the line of pavilions. „Let us speak in private, my lady. Lord Tarly may join us if he wishes…if it is a war we are talking about…there is no one among my council who knows more about it…“ he trailed off.

Then, he stopped and waved his hand at Ser Loras Tyrell and Lady Brienne.

„You may come as well, Lady Brienne. With you there, I shan’t fear anything.“

It had sounded almost like a sweet mockery, but Cat couldn’t be sure. Even so, she kept her thoughts to herself and took King Renly’s arm, who led her from the hall, past the slouching guardsmen who straightened so quickly that one nearly dropped his spear.

Renly laughed and patted his shoulders. Everything seemed to amuse him.

"This way, my lady." 

As Renly was leading her towards his private chambers he spoke again. "Forgive me for asking, but is Ser Barristan Selmy with your son at Riverrun?"

"No," Cat replied in confusion. "Is he no longer with Joffrey?“

Renly shook his head. "Cersei told him he was too old and gave his cloak to the Hound. I am told he left King’s Landing. That cloak I gave to Brienne was the one I had been keeping for Selmy.“

Cat shook her head again.

„Well, I fear I have not seen him, your grace.“

Renly returned the nod and spoke again.

„Your husband is no bad man, but he made a grave mistake. He shouldn’t have defended that bastard of his and the Targaryen girl. Robert could never stand to hear about them. Had he kept his mouth shut he might have never been imprisoned.“

Cat didn’t know what to do with this answer. She had always felt that Jon Snow would bring nothing but misfortune. Even so, she couldn’t blame Ned for defending the life of his kin. Cat would have done the same had it been Edmure or Lysa.

„Your brother is dead, though,“ Cat argued and was glad when they finally reached Renly’s private chambers. It was a spacious room, furnished with colorful carpets, tapestries, and a large assortment of clothing lay arranged on the narrow canopy he was probably using as a sleeping place, though Cat had to wonder how Renly and his bride could fit there. Speaking of his bride, she was just taking her seat beside the fire, her green dress shining like polished jade. Ser Loras took position at the door and Lord Tarly sat down on the table beside Renly. As was custom, the king had the finest seat of all, made of blackwood and engraved with golden stags. Cat was offered a seat beside Queen Margaery Tyrell.

The Queen even poured her a cup of wine. Truly, it was a strange thing to have a Queen pour wine for her.

„I thank you, your grace,“ Cat replied and took a hesitant sip from the cup.

„Now tell me, my Lady Stark. What does your son want from me? I heard you saying that he is fighting a war. Last we heard, he made peace with the Lannister and exchanged Ser Jaime’s life for your husband’s. What changed his mind?“

Cat took another sip, weighing her words properly. She had to be careful.

„My son changed his mind when he heard that you had won the allegiance of House Tyrell. He wishes to support you and thus he broke the peace with the Lannisters and decided to invade the Westerlands…all to lure Tywin Lannister away from you, your grace. To give you a chance to take King’s Landing.“

„A worthy idea,“ Lord Tarly said and nodded his head approvingly. „And I have spoken about this before. I too think we ought to strike sooner than later, your grace.“

„I am no friend of bloodshed,“ Renly sighed. He reminded Cat of a fat cat that was too pleased with himself. His complacency angered her, but she couldn’t speak harshly to a King.

„I understand that,“ Cat countered. „But I am also a mother thinking of her son. Robb is risking his life for your sake.“

„As if he is doing that out of pure selflessness, my lady,“ Ser Loras quipped. „He simply wants revenge.“

„So would you,“ Queen Margaery added firmly and looked at her brother. „Or wouldn't you be angry if someone accused our father of treason?“

„Perhaps,“ Ser Loras agreed hesitatingly and fell silent again.

„Selfless or not,“ Lord Tarly grumbled and took a swag from his cup. „We old men have a saying when it comes to war: never throw away a good opportunity.“

Renly sighed again.

„And I have a saying: Why tempt fate when time is working for us? A handful of moons from now and the peasants of King’s Landing will kill the Lannister brood for us."

„And my son might be dead,“ Cat couldn’t help but reply bitterly. „My son who sacrificed his peace for you.“

Renly clucked his tongue. „But I am sure he hopes for something in return?“

„He did,“ Cat replied bluntly. „He wanted to ask you to allow Jon Snow and the Targaryen girl to reside in the North.“

Surprisingly, Renly started to laugh. He laughed and laughed and by the time he was done Cat felt very uncomfortable.

„I think it is a reasonable demand,“ Queen Margaery added suddenly. „To allow this Jon Snow and Princess Daenerys passage to the North. Perhaps they would be willing to accept you as their King? Wouldn’t that be a grand gesture, Renly? House Baratheon and House Targaryen finally at peace. And if they have children…Well, perhaps we could arrange…,“ she was about to continue, but Renly silenced her by patting her hand in a chiding manner.

„Do not fret, my dear wife. Politics do not need to concern you. I shall handle these matters on my own."

For the first time, since meeting the girl, a hint of displeasure showed on her pretty face. She even pulled her hand away.

„I am interested in politics,“ she replied and pursed her lips. „And you are throwing away the perfect opportunity to put an end to this war. I swore to respect you, but you are acting like a child.“

With these words, Queen Margaery had left them and doubt had been cast upon Renly's face.

It was a pleasant change.

Suddenly, Renly Baratheon looked like a king.

In this moment, a young page boy entered the pavilion.

„Your grace,“ he said and knelt. „ I came as swift as I could. From Storm's End. We are besieged, Ser Cortnay defies them, but . . . "

"But . . . that's not possible. I would have been told if Lord Tywin left Harrenhal,“ Renly trailed off, blue eyes full of surprise.

"These are no Lannisters, my liege. It's Lord Stannis at your gates. King Stannis, he calls himself now."

Silence fell over the crowd and all eyes in the room were now resting on Renly. Queen Margaery was also back, watching them in silence.

Exhaling deeply, Renly Baratheon shifted his attention to Lord Randyll Tarly.

„I command you to go to Storm’s End and to take care of my brother.“

He smiled sadly when he looked back at Queen Margaery.

„I shan’t be called a child, my sweet. We shall take King’s Landing. This I swear.“

…


	38. Jon

**Jon**

“What are you doing? “ Dany asked Jon and Tito, who were seated on the carpet and plotting something. Aemon was also there, gnawing on a wooden toy. It was a carved dragon Jon had made for him not long ago.

”Why are you two playing with Aemon’s toys?” she asked after she had spotted the rest of Aemon’s toys arranged on the carpet.

Jon shrugged his shoulders and graced Dany with a warm smile.

“We are not playing with Aemon’s toys. Tito and I were just trying to visualize a plan to fight against the Dothraki. Aemon’s toys are a great help in this endeavor,” he explained.

“These are the Dothraki,” Jon added and pointed at the two carved horses in front of Tito. Then he leaned back and pointed at the soldiers placed before Jon’s knees and at the flanks of the battlefield.”And these are our men.”

Dany shook her head in disbelief.

“And what use are the twigs placed in front of our men?” she asked and jerked her head at the two pieces of wood.

“A ditch,” Tito explained and leaned back on his hands. ”Jon’s thinks we should dig a ditch and lure the Dothraki there to trap them."

“And how do you intend to lure the Dothraki there?” she asked Jon and pointed at the ditch. ”I know that they are hot-headed, but I doubt they are that stupid.”

“True,” Jon agreed. ”But I have an idea. Do you recall the fog that covers the plains and valleys before sunset?"

Realization washed over Dany's face.

“The fog would hide your trap,” she summed up, but there was still a hint of discontent visible on her face. She looked even more beautiful like this: her amethyst eyes were narrowed in concentration and she pursed her pink lips as she pondered over their plan. ”But how do you intend to lure them there?”

“That would be my task,” Tito explained proudly.”I have scouted this landscape for an appropriate battlefield. I know the land better than anyone. It would be no problem for me to lure them there. I did this before...in our campaign in Qohor.”

“I see,” Dany replied and pointed at the men placed at the flanks. ”You told me that the Dothraki attack in waves and that a khalasar can have up to thousand riders. How can you prevent them from simply overcoming your flanks and avoiding the ditch in front?”

“Well, the ditch is supposed to look more like a half-moon and will be dug between two hills. We could even use the earth to build the hills ourselves,” Jon explained and broke one of the twigs to place the two pieces at the flanks. It didn’t look like a half-moon, but he was sure that Dany had enough imagination to understand what he meant. ”The flanks would also be protected by a shield wall and archers. We could also put up stakes to keep the enemy at bay.”

“I see,” Dany replied and knelt down beside Aemon. His son eyed them each with wide eyes. Jon could only imagine what he was thinking.

_What are these stupid grown-ups doing with my precious toys?_

“And how do you intend to use the dragons?” Dany asked.

“Simple… the dragon’s task would be to burn the trapped Dothraki,” he explained and picked one of the dragon figurines from the stack of toys placed next to Aemon. The second dragon was still in Aegon’s mouth.

“Like this,” Jon told her and smashed the dragon into the Dothraki riders. Aemon followed suit and threw his own dragon on their own men. He gurgled happily and Jon patted his curly head. ”Good work, but next time you should attack the enemy.”

“They have arrows,” Dany countered. ”The Dothraki could shoot the dragons from the sky and I doubt their flames are yet strong enough to burn all these warriors. They could still overwhelm our flanks or retreat.”

“I doubt the Dothraki would have time for that,” Tito added more seriously. ”Jon suggested filling the ditch with oil. The harvest of the _firegrass_ was plentiful. All we would need is a few gallons and we could fill both the ditch and drench the battlefield with it. The rest would be left to the dragonfire.”

Dany fell silent. At first, he thought she was simply disgusted by their plan, but when she started to draw invisible lines behind the Dothraki warriors he knew she was merely pondering over their battle plan.

“You should have the dragons attack the rear once the brunt of the Dothraki force has entered the battlefield. Then they would be really trapped…in a ring of fire.”

“A pit of fire,” Tito added sardonically, a smile spreading over his lips. ”The only appropriate place for these bastards. Hell on earth.”

Jon didn’t add anything to Tito’s words. He held no love for the Dothraki, but he was only considering this plan because it would be the only way to win. Tito told him that the Lhazareen would be able to muster around seven-thousand men-at-arms, by far not enough to fight a horde of Dothraki, but the use of the dragonsfire could shift the balance in their favor. Not that his plan would ever be accepted by the assembly, but it was a nice way to occupy one’s mind.

“And you intend to present this plan during the assembly?” Dany asked expectantly.

“I doubt they would listen,” Jon replied and shrugged his shoulders.

“My brother is very eager to fight, but the chiefs of Hesh and Kosrak are not like my brother. The chief of Hesh is a landowner and the chief of Kosrak is a former merchant. They prefer to stay on the safe side.”

“I see,” Dany replied and smiled at Tito. ”Will you stay for supper?”

Tito shook his head, despite the smile on his lips.

“My sister invited me to take supper with her children,” he explained and rose to his feet. ”Another time.”

“Another time,” Jon added and started to put away the toys. Aemon didn’t approve and started to wail. Jon let go of his task and picked him up. This never failed to calm his Aemon.

“All this work you and Tito put into this plan…it is a shame that nothing will come of it,” Dany remarked and pulled the pot from the cookfire. A pleasant smell filled Jon’s nose and he went to retrieve the bowls while carrying Aemon on the other arm.

“Here,” he said and placed them on the ground next to Dany. ”But you are right. It is a shame. Tito hopes he will be allowed to speak before the assembly.”

“Knowing Tito he might even convince these stubborn chiefs,” Dany replied and filled the bowls.

“True,” Jon replied and placed Aemon back on the carpet next to him. Then he picked the dragon from the heap of toys and handed it back to him. He smiled and started to gnaw again. Smelling the food, Ghost came to join them and placed himself on the carpet, probably hoping to get the leftovers. ”But I doubt even Tito’s charm would be enough to change their mind. Whatever it's worth. I liked your idea,” he added and started to eat. It was rabbit stew spiced with the sharp fruits the Lhazareen liked to put into their food.

“My idea?” Dany asked in confusion.

“To attack the Dothraki from the rear,” he explained.”I didn’t think of that.”

She beamed and broke the bread.

“Speaking of battle plans,” she added amusedly. ”You said that you have too few men…I would also employ women. Almost all of them know how to use a bow.”

“A short-range bow,” Jon corrected her, but her idea was not without merit. Shooting burning arrows on the enemy wouldn’t be hard to do and placed at the flanks even the arrows with the shorter range would be able to reach their enemy. ”But you are right. More men are always good…or better said...more archers. Yet I doubt that the men would like to see their women fight against a Dothraki horde.”

Dany frowned at that and dipped the bread in the stew. She chewed quietly, before continuing to speak.

“Aren’t the women the ones who suffer the most when the Dothraki capture them? The men may get chained, but the women get raped. Do they not deserve revenge for all the woe instilled on them by the hands of the Dothraki?”

“Of course, they do,” Jon assured her, even if didn't want her to fight. "And I won't keep them away from the battlefield."

...


	39. Barristan

**Barristan**

The sky was dotted with numerous stars. They reminded him of diamonds cast upon a blackened cloak. Amidst these precious diamonds was a single silver moon.

Barristan felt the exhaustion in his old bones, but he was still alive. And as long as he was alive, he would do his duty.

Lord Stark’s men had a similar mindset, but they were much younger and had yet to learn how hard it was to do one's duty.

The Braavosi seemed unbothered by Ser Barristan’s troublesome thoughts. No, they were in a rather festive mood and even the streets were filled with men garbed in colorful clothing. There was also music to be had and firework. The smell of roasted fish and spice filled every corner of this foreign city.

And all of that, because the most important person in the city had supposedly perished by a fever. The Sealord.

Barristan wasn’t sure if it was fate or calculation, but he felt a strange foreboding as he was led on deck Tormo Fregar's personal galley.

Tormo Fregar’s floating palace was a precious galley with crimson sails and a handful of golden coins. The ship was bustling with men and women alike, all garbed in silk and lace and heavy brocade. Their necks and arms were overflowing with jewels and the air was pregnant with the smell of perfume.

Wine was offered to them by a seawife wearing not more than a thin dress that barely reached her knees. Another one was quick to grab Ser Barristan’s arm, but a familiar face helped them to get away from these beautiful ladies.

It was the man that had sought them out a day ago. The First Sword of Braavos.

„My friends,“ he greeted and pushed through the crowd. He wore a heavy cloak made of golden brocade and his hair was covered with black curls. Around his neck bounced a mask in the form of some exotic bird. „Welcome.“

„We are pleased to be here,“ Ser Barristan repeated and looked back at his companions. Garbed in their simple northern armor they looked very out of place among these cheerful Braavosi. „Is your lord disposed to see us?“

„Always,“ the First Sword of Braavos replied in an amused voice and patted the lady’s backside. She was no doubt a courtesan and dressed in flowing robes of yellow satin. Her face was hidden behind the mask of a peacock and her dark hair curled all the way down to her generous bosom that was laid bare by a very tight corset. „Please, show them the way, my dear.“

The Lady pursed her lips and lowered her head in reverence.

„I am the Seawife,“ she introduced herself and led the way. She walked on high shoes made of gold and silver, but it appeared as if she was floating. „Please follow me, my lords.“

„We are no lords,“ Jory corrected her. „We are just knights.“

„That means nothing to me,“ the Lady replied warmly. „But you are welcome anyway. Beggar, Slave, Knight, or King. My lord has a use for all of them.“

The ship moved beneath Ser Barristan’s feet, but he was sure-footed as ever, trying to forget about all these people watching him.

As promised, the Lady led them below deck. The stairs and the long corridor ahead were just as beautiful to look upon like the rest of the ship. There were paintings of exotic animals, golden chandeliers, and candles that burned in different colors.

Eventually, they reached a long hall with an even longer table. The polished table was covered with an abundance of food. There were ten peacocks stuffed with apples and oranges and a dozen of different sorts of fish. There was red lobster dipped in butter, salted lampreys, roasted salmon, and fresh mussels with cream-sauce and mint.

At the head of the table, he found a man dressed in a gilded robe and flowing black hair. His black mustache was as well-tended as the rest of his appearance. Not even Queen Cersei was as pampered and powdered at this man.

Yet, when his jade-green eyes fell upon Ser Barristan he could tell that this was a natural mummer.

„Welcome, my friends,“ he said and bared his teeth. „Come and sit with me. Have some wine and food. You look as if you have need of fit.“

„We thank you, your lordship,“ Ser Barristan replied and sat down across the man. "We are pleased to meet you."

„I am Ser Barristan…,“ he was about to introduce himself, but the Sealord silenced him with a wave of his hand.

„I know who you are. My fine sword gave me your names. And Ser Barristan Selmy is a name even known across the Narrow Sea,“ he explained and lifted his cup. He looked at the golden surface and grinned. „They say you served the Targaryens for many generations only to change sides to Robert Baratheon. Well, the Fat Stag is dead and now rumors have started to spread far and wide, about a Princess that woke dragons from stone and is Azor Ahai reborn. I am also aware that you have been searching for this Targaryen Princess and her bastard lover.“

„Jon Snow,“ Jory added. „The boy is called Jon Snow.“

„A strange name,“ the Sealord chuckled and stroked his beard. „Well, my main interest is the Princess. I have need of her, which is why I want to propose an allegiance between us.“

„An allegiance?“ Harwin asked. „Forgive me, your lordship. But why would the Sealord be interested in an allegiance with Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Braavos hardly ever takes interest in the Iron Throne, unless it concerns repaying the Iron Throne's debts.“

„And debts these are plenty,“ Tormo Fregar replied with a grin. „But that is not the reason. The reason is far simpler. In two weekturns I will make the chair of the Sealord my own. I have great plans for the future of Braavos and these plans need a spearhead against the injustice committed in the slaver cities.“

Barristan was confused.

„You wish to fight the Slaver Cities, your lordship?“

„Not only fight,“ the man said in a very serious tone. „But destroy this perverted practice once and for all. Sadly, I cannot do that without Azor Ahai reborn. He once freed the world of the tyranny of the Bloodstone Emperor and the Red Priests believe that Princess Daenerys is his successor.“

„So you want the girl to play some silly mummery for you to conquer Slaver’s Bay?“ Harwin snorted. „That sounds utterly mad.“

„Mad or not,“ Tormor Fregar chuckled. „But that is how grand plans start. Most of them sound mad at first glance.“

„The Mad King thought the same way,“ Jory added and took a sip from his cup. „And now he is dead.“

„King Aerys was a better King than the Fat Stag. At least, in the eyes of the Braavosi. He always paid off his loans on time. Well, he is dead and gone. We shouldn’t conjure up dead ghosts to spoil our fun, no?"

„No, we shouldn’t,“ Ser Barristan replied hesitatingly. This man was far from mad. He knew exactly what he was doing and he could indeed be a valuable alley for the future. And an ally was something that Princess Daenerys had dire need of. „I assume you want us to speak with Princess Daenerys on your behalf?“

„That would be part of the idea,“ Tormo Fregar explained. „And once Princess Daenerys has fulfilled her part of the bargain I would be willing to help her finance the retaking of her father’s crown.“

„And that would mean taking part in your mummery?" Barristan asked in displeasure. The Northmen didn't look any happier.

„Mummery or not,“ Tormo Fregar replied. „But it is more than she could ever hope for. Who else would support her? A former courtesan with three half-grown dragons and a bastard husband?“

„That truth cannot be denied,“ Harwin said skeptically. „But that is not what we came for. We came here to find them and not to play queenmaker.“

„For now, I only want of you to speak to her,“ Tormo Fregar replied. „Not more than that, my friends.“

Then, the Sealord rose to his feet and took the arm of the Seawife.

„Think about my offer. I want to have your answer on the morrow, my friends.“

…


	40. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

They had placed three wooden chairs in the middle of the large courtyard, elevated above a good hundred cushioned seats. The elevated seats belonged to the chiefs of the three major cities and the cushioned seats to the chiefs representing the smaller towns and hamlets. Above the wooden seats hung the banner of each of the three cities. The banner of Lhazosh showed a white sheep on a green background. The banner of Hesh showed a gallon of wheat and a vine of grapes. The banner of Kosrak showed a herd of black sheep on a white background.

As outsiders, Dany and Jon should have been seated at the outer ranks, but Tito insisted for them to be seated next to him.

Thus, Dany had a good view of the men that assembled here in Lhazosh. Chief Mallor headed the event and was garbed in his leather armour, a white pelt thrown over his shoulders. Below his feet rested his shield and spear. The chief of Kosrak was less impressive than Tito’s brother. He was a big-bellied man who had probably never seen a battlefield. The Chief of Hesh was thin as a stick and marked by age. Among the lower-ranked chiefs, she found younger men, some of them carrying scars.

Chief Mallor tapped his spear on the ground to get the attention of the whispering crowd. At once they stopped and the silence was restored.

He addressed the two other chiefs in a friendly, but also formal tone.

“Be welcome here, brothers. I am thankful that you all came here. More than a week ago, a Dothraki horde was sighted. This means it will only be a matter of time before the first town falls prey to the plundering horde. I know your hearts are stricken by fear, but the attacks have been constantly increasing over the last years. The Dothraki are like dogs. They smell our fear and they think us weak. We need to fight or they will never stop their vicious attacks.”

The younger chiefs cheered, but the elderly men muttered and carried disapproving expressions.

“They don’t look very enthusiastic,” Jon remarked quietly.

“No,” she agreed quietly and squeezed his hand. ”They don’t.”

Now, the Chief of Kosrak spoke.

“Your words are daring, but I have no interest to sacrifice my men unnecessarily. How many Dothraki were sighted?”

“A horde of thirty-thousand…meaning around fifteen-thousand riders,” Chief Mallor recounted. ”We could muster around seven-thousand men if we all work together. If we act cleverly…,” he continued, but the coughing of the Chief of Hesh interrupted his speech. This earned the man snorts from Chief Mallor’s supporters.

He carried himself with the arrogance of a man that thought himself above the other men in the assembly.

“Why should we waste our men in another useless battle when we have our city walls to protect us against the enemy? The Dothraki barbarians will never be able to overcome our walls.”

His supporters clapped, but Chief Mallor’s dark gaze told her everything she needed to know. There was bad blood between them.

“Sadly, not all of Lhazar can be hidden away behind high walls, oh revered Chief!” mocked Chief Mallor.”And the day might come when the Dothraki shed their past ways and learn how to overcome our walls. But it is no surprise. You are old and you will probably never see this day.”

“You dare!” the old man snapped, but the young man seated at his side took his arm and whispered something in his ear. Dany believed him to be his son, though he lacked the soft body of his father. He was strongly-built and carried the scars of a warrior.

“I am only speaking the truth!” Chief Mallor shouted and tapped his spear on the ground as if the emphasis his point. ”Our fields will be burned, our wives will be raped and our people will be sold into slavery while we hide behind our walls. You speak so highly and consider yourself above the barbaric Dothraki, but you don’t want to lift a single finger to protect our people. I call that craven.”

“Enough!” shouted the young man, who had calmed the old Chief of Hesh. ”You speak out of turn, Chief Mallor. My father was merely pointing out that such a fight would be a wasteful endeavour. His caution has nothing to do with cowardice. I know the strength of the Dothraki, but even I do not think we are able to win such a battle.”

“I agree with Young Jemshid,” the Chief of Kosrak added and leaned back in his chair. ”Such a fight would serve no purpose. Kosrak brought in the majority of its harvest. The barbarians can try to steal it from us if they can cross our walls.”

“No purpose,” Chief Mallor muttered angrily. ”And this coming from a man who never held a spear in his hand. Well, Lhazosh and _even Hesh_ have yet to bring in the harvest. I would fight alone if I had the men to do so.”

“Do it then,” the Chief of Hesh added smugly. ”I am sure your forefathers will greet you in the next world for your valour, Chief Mallor. But please leave us out of this madness.”

“Madness,” Tito's mother repeated and rose from her seat. "How can you call guarding our people madness? Or are the walls of Hesh enough to protect all your people from the approaching enemy? Did you not swear on the Great Shepherd to guard your people like your own children? Or did you forget the vow you gave when you ascended to your position upon your father’s death twenty years ago? You might not, but I do.”

“Why does the woman speak?” he Chief of Hesh asked and acted as if he hadn’t even heard Tito’s mother. "She has no right."

“The woman is my late father’s wife,” Chief Mallor snapped. ”And you will show her the respect she deserves or I will cut out your tongue!”

“Do it then,” the elderly man taunted, but it was again Young Jemshids’ intervention that ended the impending fight.

“Father,” Young Jemshid said and patted his shoulder. ”Allow her to speak.”

“Very well,” the man grumbled. ”Speak then and I will try to listen.”

“Some of you might have heard about the foreigners residing in our city,” Tito’s mother explained and jerked her head at Dany and Jon.”And their dragons. Jon of Winterfell offered to employ them in our favour.”

Deadly silence reigned as the people turned their heads to look at them. Jon looked confused, which was no surprise. Dany doubted he understood all they had said.

“Tito’s mother told them that we are prepared to employ our dragons in their favour,” she translated..

“I see,” Jon said and straightened himself. "I see."

“It is true…we have dragons…and we intend to fight at your side,” Jon said in broken Lhazareen that earned him amused laughter from the younger children.

“We saw these dragons,” the Chief of Hesh remarked. He sounded unimpressed. ”They are not bigger than horses. How can they kill fifteen-thousand Dothraki screamers without getting pierced by their arrows?”

Dany frowned and decided to go for a more blunt approach. Only an hour ago we saw Balerion and Vhagar circling over the city gates. They should hear well enough.

“Let me show you!” Dany declared loudly and cleared her throat.

“Ñuha riñar! aōha muña brōzas syt ao!” she exclaimed once, twice and a third time.

Jon stared at her, but she was sure that he understood what she had said. He was getting better at High Valyrian, though he liked to downplay his achievements.

After the third time, the sound of wings drowned out the muttering of the crowd. First came Balerion, his wings as dark as the night, as he descended on the deserted part of the courtyard. Vhagar followed suit and landed not far away, his eyes fixed on Jon as if expecting his command. Meraxes appeared at last, lost and without a rider to attend to him. Her poor child.

Silence reigned.

“You are right. The dragons cannot burn fifteen-thousand men alone,” Tito added his voice. ”But together we may be able to give the Dothraki horde a defeat they will never forget. Then they will finally understand that the Lhazareen are not as weak as they think.”

All were stunned. Especially the Chief of Kosrak was trembling like a leaf. Only the Chief of Hesh continued to sneer in distrust. Only Chief Mallor smiled.

_Did he know about their plans?_

“Then show us what your dragons can do, little girl,” the Chief of Hesh taunted, his dark eyes fixed on her dragon.

Dany was tempted to fulfil his wish, but Young Jemshid proved again the word of reason.

“I don’t think a demonstration is necessary, but I have to agree with my father’s scepticism. I doubt your dragons can defeat a horde of Dothraki. Their arrows are deadly,” he said in broken Bastard Valyrian.

Then Jon rose to his feet and searched the young man's gaze.

“True,” Jon agreed. ”But not if we are able to use the dragons to our full advantage,” he added and turned to look first at Tito and then at Chief Mallor. ”I have a plan…I don’t expect you to agree, but at least let me explain.”

“This is preposterous!” the Chief of Hesh snapped, but Young Jemshid raised his hand to silence his father. Surprisingly, the man obeyed.

“I lead our man-at-arms. I want to hear him speak,” Young Jemshid declared and turned to look at Chief Mellor.”What do you say, Chief?”

A heavy moment of silence followed before Chief Mellor spoke, a seldom smile playing on his lips.

“We will hear Jon of Winterfell.”

...


	41. Theon

**Theon**

The shore was all sharp rocks and grey cliffs. The castle seemed, all the same, its towers and walls and bridges made from the same grey-black stone, wetted by the salty waves and covered with the droppings of the seabirds.

Pyke stood atop the island, its curtain wall closing off the headland around the foot of the great stone bridge that rose from the clifftop to the largest isle, dominated by the massive bulk oft he Great Keep. Further out were the Kitchen Keep and the Bloody Keep, each on its own island. Towers and outbuildings were linked to each other by long swaying walks of wood and rope.

The Sea Tower rose from the outmost island at the point of the broken sword, the oldest part of the castle, round and tall, the pillar half-eaten by the endless battering of the waves. Above this tower snapped his father’s banner: the golden Kraken of House Greyjoy, arms reaching against a black field.

Theon had never seen a more beautiful sight. The sky above the castle was blue, the fine tail of the comet visible from afar, through the scuttling clouds. All the way from Riverrun to Seaguard, the Mallisters had argued about its meaning.

 _It is my comet_ , Theon was convinced and touched the parchment Robb had given him during their last talk. _My future._

„Does the castle look like you recall it?“ the captain's daughter asked and brushed her hand over his arm.

„It looks smaller,“ Theon replied and brushed his hands over the girl’s arse. „But that might only be the distance.“

The girl giggled. „It must be rather windy up there.“

Theon laughed in agreement and slapped her ass. „Windy and cold and terrible damp. A miserable hard place, in truth…but my father used to say that a hard place like that breeds hard men and hard men rule this world. Now dress.“

The captain's face was filled with anger when he spoke to Theon and asked. „May we make for the port, my lord?“

Theon grinned. „You may.“

He had the man’s daughter all night. A cup of wine, a few whispers, and there she was rolling in his bed. She was a bit too plump for his taste, but her breasts were fine to touch, all full and with hard nipples. She had also been a maiden when Theon had lain with her.

„You must be very happy,“ the girl chirped. „How long have you been gone?“

„Ten years,“ He told her. „I was a boy when I was taken to Winterfell as a hostage of Eddard Stark.“

Not that it mattered anymore. He was no longer a hostage. He was finally free.

As he stepped outside, he saw a dozen fishing boats pulling in their nets. Theon moved to the bow to get a better view.

He saw the stronghold of the Botleys. When he was a boy it had been made of timber and wattle, but Robert Baratheon had razed that structure to the ground. It must have been rebuilt, for now, a small square keep crowned the hill. Pale green flags fluttered on the towers, each emblazoned with a silvery fish.

Beneath this castle lay the village of Lordsport, the harbor filled with ships. When he had last seen Lordsport, it had been a smoking wasteland, the remains of burnt longships and smashed galleys littering the stony shore like the bones of dead leviathans. After ten years, few traces of the destruction remained. The folk had rebuilt everything and a new inn had risen beside the landing. The sept had not been rebuild, but that was no surprise: the ironborn held no love for these gods.

Theon was more interested in the ships. Among the fishing boats, he saw Tyroshi galleys and a great number of longships. Some of these ships showed the blood moon, Lord Goodbother’s black warhorn, Harlaw’s silver scythe…

A terrible realization hit him like thunder.

Had Lord Balon called his banners?

Suddenly, he felt as if all his hopes and dreams were crumbling to dust.

As the ship made its way towards the shore, Theon continued to pace up and down the deck. No one came. No one cared about his return.

Only a handful of merchants gathered to meet the ship. One man shouted a question at the captain, but Theon ignored him.

Filled with anger, he pressed a gold dragon into the captain's hand. Then, he called upon one of the men that did not seem to know him.

„Have your men bring my belongings,“ he told the captain and then turned back to the other man. „I will require a horse.“

„As you say, my lord,“ the man replied in obvious confusion. „Where would you be riding?“

„Pyke,“ Theon replied. The man did not seem to know him either. He should have worn his good doublet, the one with the golden Kraken.

„My boy will go with you if you…,“ the man began, but a familiar voice cut him off.

„Your boy will not be needed,“ the deep voice said. „I shall see my nephew back to his father’s house.“

The speaker was a priest and the people knelt at his approach.

„Damphair,“ Theon heard them whisper. "Damphair."

Tall and thin, with fierce black eyes and a beak of a nose, the priest was garbed in mottled robes of green and grey and blue, the colors of the Drowned God. A waterskin hung under his arm and bands of dried seaweed were braided through his waist-long black hair and an untrimmed beard.

„Uncle Aeron?“

„Nephew Theon,“ the priest replied. „Your lord father bid me to fetch you.“

„In a moment,“ Theon replied and shifted his attention back to the captain. „My belongings.“

A sailor fetched his belongings, especially his bow and quiver of arrows, but it was the captain’s daughter who brought him his good clothing.

„My lord,“ she said, her eyes red with tears.

„You have my thanks,“ Theon replied quickly and followed after his uncle. He tried not to look at the girl.

„I didn't expect you, uncle,“ Theon said to the priest. „I thought my lord father and my lady mother might come themselves or send Dagmar with an honor guard.“

„It is not for you to question the commands of the Lord Reaper of Pyke,“ his uncle replied sternly. This man was so unlike the man he had known in his childhood. The old Aeron Greyjoy had been quick to laugh, fond of songs and women. „As for Dagmer…he went to out to gather men.“

„Why?“

His uncle stared at him in disbelief. „Tell me, nephew. Do you pray to the wolf gods now?“

Theon had never prayed much. Not even to the Drowned God.

„Ned Stark prayed to his tree, but I care nothing for his gods.“

„Good,“ his uncle replied. „Kneel.“

Theon eyed the ground. It was all stones and mud.

„Kneel,“ his uncle insisted again. „Are you too proud to kneel?“

Theon knelt hesitatingly. His uncle's respect was worth a little mud on his breeches.

„Bow your head,“ his uncle commanded and poured a stream of seawater over his head. It drenched his hair and ran down his cheeks. His eyes burned painfully. „Let Theon,your servant, be born again from the sea, as you were.“

His uncle Aeron searched his face.

„Do you still know the words?“

„What is dead may never die,“ Theon replied from memory.

„What is dead may never die,“ his uncle echoed. „but rises again, harder and stronger. Now stand.“

Theon stood, blinking back tears. Then, they mounted their horses and rode off, leaving the harbor behind them. They passed the castle of Lord Botley and set out into the stony hills.

Silence fell over them.

Theon made an attempt to speak. „Will I find my sister and my lady mother at Pyke?“

„You will not,“ his uncle replied grimly. „Your mother needs rest and your sister has taken the Black Wind to Great Wyk, with massages from your lord father. I am sure she will return soon enough.“

Theon hadn’t seen Asha in ten years. It amused him that she had named her ship like Robb's wolf.

„What of you?“ he asked his uncle. „You were no priest when I was taken from Pyke.“

„Young and vain,“ his uncle replied. „But the sea washed away my follies. I see clearly now.“

Theon frowned and decided to change the topic again. „Uncle, why has my father called his swords and sails?“

His uncle snorted. „Your father will tell you in good time.“

„I would prefer to know his plans now,“ Theon replied but received no further answer. „Why will you not tell me?“

„You are not one of us,“ his uncle replied. „You are one of them now…one of these lords from the Greenlands.“

Theon didn’t believe his ears. Eddard Stark had never been his father. He had tried to play the role from time to time, but to Theon, he had always remained the man who had brought fire to Pyke and had taken him from his home. And as a young boy, he had lived in constant fear of Ned Stark’s stern face and his greatsword Ice.

As for the children, the younger ones had been mewling babes for most of his years in Winterfell. Only Robb and Jon Snow had been old enough to be worth noticing. The bastard had been jealous of Theon’s high birth. As for Robb, Theon held affection for him…but it was best not to mention it. So much he realized.e.

They rode out into bare and stony hills. Soon they were far away from the sea, though the smell of salt and sea followed them everywhere they turned.

Theon made another attempt to speak to his uncle.

„Robb has broken fealty with the Iron Theon and is invading the Westerlands. There will be war.“

His uncle chuckled bitterly. „These tidings are old and cold.“

Theon shook his head and decided it was pointless to speak to his uncle. Thus, he urged his horse forward, his gaze fixed on the red comet gracing the sky.

It was close to sunset when they reached the walls of Pyke, a crescent of dark stone that ran from cliff to cliff, with the gatehouse in the center and the three squares towers to either side.

The gates stood open to him, the rusted iron portcullis drawn up. The guards stood atop the battlements and watched them curiously.

Beyond the wall were half a hundred acres of hard land. The stables were there, the kennels and the outer buildings. Sheep and swine could be seen and the dogs were running free.

A stableman came his way to take his horse, but there was no sign of his father.

„Come,“ his uncle said. „Your father told me to bring you and then I must return to my god. To the Sea Tower.“

To get to the Sea Tower on ist crooked pillar, they had to cross three bridges, each narrower than the next. The last was made of rope and wood and the sweet salt wind made it sway underfoot like a living thing. Theon’s heart was in his mouth by the time they were halfway across.

It made him only aware of how weak he had become. As a boy, he used to run across this bridge, even in the black oft he night…

The door was wood studded with iron and he found it barred from the inside.

After a moment the door opened and a guardsman greeted him.

„You are the son?“

Theon met the man’s gaze and forgot his manners.

„I am Theon Greyjoy,“ he replied and pushed the man aside. He climbed up the twisting steps to the solar and found his father seated beside the brazier, beneath a robe of musty sealskins that covered him from foot to chin. At the sound of his boots, his father lifted his eyes to look at him.

His lord father had always been thin, but now he looked as though the gods had put him in a cauldron and had boiled every spare ounce of flesh from his bones until nothing remained but hair and skin. His face might have been chipped from flint. His eyes were flinty too, black and sharp, but the years and the salty winds had turned his hair grey like the winter sea.

„Nine years is it?“ his father asked. Cold and unfriendly.

Theon realized he needed to be careful.

„Ten,“ Theon replied coldly. He tried to appear a man but felt like a boy. „It has been ten years, father.“

His father frowned. „A boy they took and what are you now?“

Theon feigned humility. „Your son and your heir if you deem me worthy enough.“

His father grunted. „We shall see.“

„First let me speak,“ Theon replied. „And then we can speak about the future.“

His father snorted. „I know why you are here…to play Robb Stark’s envoy.“

„True enough,“ Theon confirmed. „But then I saw the ships in the harbour…It seems you wasted no time to prepare them for war. And that is why I am here. The Westerlands are ripe for taking…it is time to take revenge.“

His father eyed him with a queer look.

„Ripe for taking?“ his father asked. „ A bold claim…Is that what your lord and master commands me to do? To attack the Westerlands? Do you think me so low that I would do the bidding of this wolf-boy?“

It certainly was what Robb had asked of him, but he knew that was a lost cause. Not after this cold homecoming.

„Why is it of importance what Robb Stark thinks?“ Theon asked and snorted in return. „Important is that he was foolish enough to allow me to come here. Now I am back and you are free to take revenge against the lions.“

„The wolf boy’s father is also my enemy,“ his father grunted. „And I swore to kill them one day. Why are you not speaking of your lord and master?“

Theon felt anger rising up inside him. „Robb Stark is no master of mine. He is a green boy who thinks he can play at war with the Lannisters, but that doesn’t mean we cannot make use of his foolishness. What do you say, father? Will you sent your ships to the Westerlands?“

His father snorted. „For what? Casterly Rock cannot be taken…only a foolish boy like you would think it possible.“

Theon shook his head. „Who said anything of Casterly Rock? The Westerlands are rich with gold, harvest, and women. What more do we need more? Let Tywin have his rock of stone and let him numb his fangs against Robb Stark while we plunder his lands…“ he trailed off.

His father frowned and took a swag from his cup.

„And who would lead this attack I wonder? You?“

Theon knew the answer would decide his fate and remembered his lessons from today. Here he was not worth more than the sand beneath his boots.

He had to earn his father’s trust and there was only one way to do it.

„Of course not,“ Theon replied and feigned humility. „I am not worthy of such a task. Let Uncle Victarion do it and I shall attend to your other enemies…my former goalers.“

It was the first time since his arrival that his lord father really looked at him.

„Speak.“

„Lord Eddard's younger sons are still in Winterfell,“ he continued, the words spilling from his lips while his heart ached with guilt, but he had known all along that he would have to make a decision. „I shall bring them to you as our hostages…as a gift to prove my loyalty.“

His father didn’t smile but lifted his arm to touch his shoulder.

„It seems in that sense we are of the same mind, my son.“

…


	42. Jon

**Jon**

Shrouds of white were hovering over the hills and valleys. It was hours before sunset, the sky a dark blue colour and lightened only by a few stars flickering on the distant horizon.

They had taken their positions long ago. Now they were waiting for the sound of horse hooves and the battle cry of the Dothraki horde. Jon knew the fear the Golden Horde could instill and so did the Lhazareen warriors, lined up behind the ditch that was meant to stop the charge of the enemy.

It had taken nearly three days to dig the ditch and several hours to fill it with oil. After they had finished their task they went on to drench their chosen battlefield in oil. Most of it was covered in pasture and that it hadn’t rained for weeks could only be to their advantage, though Jon still feared the thick fog.

Tito had assured him that he would be able to lure the horde here, but Jon couldn’t help to have doubts. _Soon_ , he told himself and searched for the blurred glimmer on the distant horizon. In a few hours, the show would finally show itself.

Exhaling deeply, Jon turned around and took in the Lhazareen warriors. The front line was made up of men from Lhazosh and Kosrak. They were all garbed in leather armour and armed with spears and painted shields. They made up the first three lines and lined the half-moon-like ditch, spreading between two hills to the left and right. Behind the shieldmen stood the archers spread over the hill they had built from the dug-up earth.

_A ring of fire._

_It is the only way to win_ , he reminded himself not for the first time and smoothed his hand over the pommel of his sword. Carefully, he pulled the blade out and admired it. The torches carried by the Lhazareen warriors cast a golden glimmer on the polished blade.

The touch of Vhagar's hot breath on his cheek roused him out of his lethargic state. The dragon lay curled next to him, staring out in the darkness.

 _He is searching for his brothers_ , he knew and cast his eyes to the right flank. There on the hill, he placed Dany and most of the Lhazareen women, who had volunteered to take part in the battle. Naturally, this had led to dissatisfaction among the men, but the women had ignored their husbands, probably spurred on by Tito’s mother. Clad in leather armor and armed with bows they sat behind the shield wall, waiting for their enemy.

Jon couldn't help but be worried about Dany’s safety. Vhagar and Meraxes were there to protect her, but that wasn’t enough to forget his fears. He knew the strength of the Dothraki horde.

“Jon of Winterfell,” said Young Jemshid, son of the chief of Hesh. ”Can you hear them?

Jon remained silent and listened. It was only subtle, but the vibration intensified with every passing moment.

“I do,” Jon replied and nodded his head in confirmation. ”They are coming.”

“I know,” Jemshid agreed and grimaced.

Then they heard it. The thundering sound of a thousand hoofbeats shook the very earth as Jon tried to glimpse through the fog.

Tito and his men were to join the men placed at the flanks once they reach the battlefield and the numerous torches flickering before him were meant to lure the Dothraki towards them.

 _They think us weak_ , Tito had assured him. _And that will be our advantage._

Jon didn’t know what to think. His hand trembled as he observed the enemy’s cavalry charge. Even the thick fog was unable to suppress the loud rumble of horse beats; rather, the concealment of their approaching figures only served to heighten the sense of impending doom.

Men liked to boast about their lack of fear in the face of the enemy, but Jon only recalled the words Lord Stark had given him after his first execution.

_One can only be brave in the face of fear._

“Shields and spear up!” he heard Young Jemshied’s roaring voice, echoing over the ranks of the warriors below. ”Shields and spears up!”

It took only the blink of a moment before the men had lifted their shields and spears to meet the onslaught of the horde. Jon remained atop the hill, the banner of Kosrak and Lhazosh fluttering above his head, and his dragon still close at his side.

The dragon began to shriek as if aware of the impending danger.

“Patience,” he whispered to the dragon and patted his neck. ”Patience.”

Yet, all of these thoughts were banished away when the cries of the Dothraki screamers started to echo over the battlefield. Jon finally saw them, dark shadows moving behind white shrouds.

Tito’s predictions proved right. The Dothraki riders stormed forward as if they could only see victory beyond the fog. Faster and faster they charged spurred on by their illusion.

Jon’s breathing hitched when the first riders disappeared in the ditch. It wasn’t all too deep, but not narrow enough to be crossed with a horse. Suddenly, hundreds of riders realized that the ground beneath their feet had disappeared. With helpless shouts, some of them pulled back on their reins, but it was too late. They stumbled down into the ditch filled with slippery oil.

Thus it continued. The first wave of riders was pressed forward by the second line. The second wave of riders was pressed forward by the third line.

The screams of horses were contesting with the cursing of the Dothraki warriors. As expected, some of them tried to crawl out of the ditch, but the Lhazareen warriors’ stood strong and held them back with sword and shield.

“It is time,” he told Young Jemshid, who nodded his head in grim determination."It is time..."

“Prepare the arrows!” Young Jemshid added loudly and at once the bowmen nocked their burning arrows.

“Nock!” Young Jemshid shouted and counted to three. ”Loose!”

It sounded like the wings of a thousand birds taking flight at once.

And like a hundred falling stars, the arrows came down upon the battlefield below.

Another volley of arrows followed, before Jon’s part was mean to begin.

Sweetly, he smoothed his hand over Sonarys’ wings and gave the command.

“Vhagar!” he shouted and pointed at the ditch below.”Dracarys! Dracarys!”

In the blink of a moment, the oil caught fire, spreading along the ditch like a current of flames. Jon felt the heat on his skin, but that was not the end of it.

“Māzigon kesīr!” he shouted and at once his dragon returned to his side, the screams of men and horse alike filling his ears. The burning arrows they had unleashed earlier helped to spread the flames over the battlefield.

It was a terrifying sound that made Jon shiver from head to toe, but he quickly brushed those feelings aside.

_Not now!_

“Now,” he told the beast and pointed ahead on the battlefield.”Dracarys! Pōntoma Zālaza!”

That the dragon understood his command was still a miracle to him, though the result was terrifying to behold.

Vhagar bathed the battlefield in a stream of fire. At once the flames, seeded by the burning arrows, doubled in size.

Higher and higher the flames rose as Vhagar unleashed a stream of fire upon the battlefield.

“Jon!” Young Jemshid shouted and snapped him back to reality. ”The beacon was lightened!”

Jon angled his head and looked at the right flank. There he saw it, the beacon that was meant to announce the second phase.

_Now it’s your turn Dany!_

Jon kept his gaze fixed at the dark hill, its outlines illuminated by the growing flames below. At regular intervals, he heard the sound of arrows unleashed on the enemy, but soon even this sound was drowned out by the roaring flames.

Patiently, he waited for Balerion's and Meraxes’ attack.

At first, he only saw the outline of their bodies, but then he saw their colorful flames. Meraxes’ flames and Balerion's flames waltzed over the rear and made an escape impossible.

For this brief moment, the battlefield turned into a ring of fire.

…


	43. Robb

**Robb**

Robb was roused by Greywind’s howl. It was a sorrowful howl, like the heaviness that had settled in his heart since his father had left Winterfell to serve King Robert. Robb longed to return to these times, but when he found his wolf’s face looming before him in the darkness of his tent, he knew that these happy times were long gone.

He was now a man and his lords depended on him. Thus, he had done what was expected of a man and lord. He had made peace with the Lannisters to save his father’s life, he had wed the Frey girl to keep his promise and now he was going to break his vow to the Lannisters to crown a man king that was trying to usurp his own brother.

Yet, that was not what had hurt the most. What had hurt the most was that Arya had run off, because Robb had not cared to listen to her wishes. He should have known better than to promise his sister to this Frey boy.

 _I should have explained it better_ , he knew and rubbed his hands over his face. _And now she is gone. Mother will never forgive me._

He had sent out men to find his sister, but the Riverlands were vast and Arya might have just boarded the next ship to leave Westeros. At least, that was what Robb believed to be her goal. Jon had always been the closest to their heart and it would not surprise him if she tried to find him.

Robb had also thought of sending men to find Jon, but then he was in the middle of a war, and to associate himself with his brother was dangerous. He was a Targaryen by birth, though Robb didn’t love him any less despite his true birth.

It was the very reason he wanted to help Renly to the crown. He hoped that King Robert’s younger might allow Jon and his Targaryen Princess to reside in Winterfell.

„My lord,“ Olyvar’s voice reached his ears through the thin walls of his tent. At first, Robb only saw his shadow and after the young man had pulled up the flap of his tent, the light of his candle fell upon Robb’s face, blinding him momentarily.

Olyvar looked much like his sweet sister. His face was soft and his heart even softer. Yet, he was older than Robb by several years and his squire.

It had felt even stranger to spent one night in the bed of his bride before returning to the battlefield.

Roslin was a kind girl and pretty, but she was still a stranger to him.

„I am already awake,“ Robb assured Olyvar and rose to his feet.

The young man smiled and drew closer. „Do you have need of my help, my lord?“

Robb smiled. „I can dress without your help, but a proper meal would be good. What interests me more...Have the outriders returned?“

„No,“ replied Olyvar and was already on his way back to the entrance of the tent, the light of his candle dancing against the walls. "But I can fetch your breakfast while you are dressing. Do you want me to call for your lords?“

„Aye,“ Robb replied. „I thank you.“

Olyvar smiled and left him. Robb went to wash his face and dressed quickly before brushing his hair out of his face.

Avoiding the Golden Tooth had been easy enough, but it had been Greywind that had found the goat’s track through the mountains and not Robb’s superior knowledge of the landscape.

It had taken them two days to climb up there and avoid the castle. Then, everything had happened faster than anticipated. Robb and his men had attacked Steffon Lefford’s men near a small village called Oxcross while they were still sleeping in their tents. Robb and his small vanguard, consisting of Greywind and the Wolf’s Guard had attacked the line of horses and the rest of his men had chased away Steffon Lefford’s men.

They had taken the town easily and had taken even more captives, but that had only been the first battle. He knew so much.

The sky outside was heavy with grey clouds. They had made camp just outside the village, which was located in an idyllic valley and surrounded by a thick forest that would protect them from a possible assault.

He had also sent out outriders, but that meant little.

As the battle of the Whispering Wood had shown him, it was quite easy to cut down men and silence them forever.

The thick mist that was hanging over the valley made it only harder to see. Rain is coming, Robb believed and pulled up the hood of his cloak, as he made his way to the lines of horses. His horse was well-tended and Robb lingered not for long before he returned to Olyvar, who had already fetched his breakfast and Greywind some leftovers from the last day.

„I bring your breakfast, my lord,“ Olyvar told him and pointed at the plate covered with scrambled eggs and a cup of mulled he had placed on a table outside of Robb's tent. „Do you want me to inform you about the newest tidings from the camp?“

Robb nodded his head in confirmation and sat down to eat.

He was enjoying the scrambled eggs and had just lifted his hand to take his cup when he noticed Lady Dacey Mormont. Greywind was quickly on his feet when he smelled the horse of the man beside Lady Dacey Mormont.

His garb was dirty and when he lifted his visor Robb found a flushed face looking back at him.

„My lord Stark,“ he said and climbed form the saddle. He knelt before Robb, but he quickly waved his hand at the man, indicating for him to stand. „I bring bad tidings. It seems the enemy is closer than we anticipated.“

„Here,“ Robb said and waved his hand at the seat formerly occupied by Olyvar Frey. „Please sit down and have a cup of wine while you are telling me what you found.“

The man was thankful and sat down on Olyvar’s seat. He drank greedily and then he finally spoke.

„My companion and I have been saeching for the enemy, but we didnt use the main road. Eventually, we came about a handful of Lannister riders. At first, we thought they were just carriers, but then we realized they were using a rather unpractical path. We left our horses behind them and went on foot, walking during the night and sleeping during the day…,“ he trailed off and eyed the leftover food on Robb’s plate.

Robb sighed and pushed the plate in front of the man. Then, he poured him another cup of wine and turned to Olyvar. „Fetch me some more of that scrambled egg.“

„I thank you, my lord,“ the man replied and lowered his head. He shoved a handful of the food into his mouth before continuing with his tale. „Eventually, we came upon a camp of at least several hundred Lannister men, carrying the personal crest of Kevan Lannister. My companion tried to get closer and was captured. I was barely able to flee, but what I found out is this: It seems they are planning to meet up with men from the Golden Tooth. Perhaps Lord Tywin or another larger host. The Kingslayer was also mentioned."

Robb shook his head in disbelief. „If Lord Tywin had passed Riverrun we would know about it.“

„But that doesn’t mean we can be idle,“ Robb added quickly and ruffled his hand through his curled red hair. Then, he shifted his attention to Dacey Mormont. „Call for the others. We must make plans.“

An hour later, the men assembled in Robb’s pavilion. On a round wooden table, Robb had spread a map and Olyvar had brought candles to chase away the darkness.

The man, who was called Malcolm Hallen, showed them where he and his companion had found the enemy troops.

Robb's bannermen had listened patiently, even the Greatjon, and when the man was done Robb allowed everyone to have a cup of wine as they were sorting their thoughts.

„So, what are do you intend to do about it, my lord?“ Lord Rickard Karstark asked. He had been most eager to fight the Lannisters. He was still hoping to take revenge against Ser Jaime Lannister for slaying two of his sons during the Battle of the Whispering Wood. „Do you intend to confront the Kingslayer?“

„That will be unavoidable,“ Robb replied unhappily. He hadn’t thought that the enemy would come fort hem so soon. He had thought he might at least have enough time to take the Crag, but he would need his troops here to face their common enemy. „And I intend to call upon the Frey troops at Ashford castle to join us when the time comes.“

„So we will wait while the Kingslayer is preparing to fight us?“ the Greatjon asked unhappily and slammed his goblet back on the table. „Forgive me, my lord, but I think that is very unwise.“

Robb chuckled. The other men and the two ladies laughed as well. They were all dreading the upcoming battle, for it promised to be a difficult one. So far, they had always been able to ambush the enemy, but now the enemy was coming for them.

Robb took another sip from his cup and brushed his hand over the map. Greywind was close and nudged his arm. Robb patted his head and shifted his attention back to his men.

„The Greatjon speaks true,“ Robb replied and swept his gaze over the assembled group of men. „We must fight and therefore we ought to leave by the morrow. I shall lead the vanguard and the rest of the troops shall be split up and lead by Lord Karstark and the Greatjon. Does that please you, my lords?“

The two men nodded their heads in acknowledgment. Lord Karstark didn’t smile, but Robb could tell by his demeanor that he was very pleased. The Greatjon betrayed his approval with a broad grin.

„Nothing would please us more, Lord Stark. It is high time we put an end to these Lannisters once and for all. Most importantly, the Kingslayer.“

„But do you think it is wise for you to lead the vanguard, my lord?“

Robb nodded his head in confirmation. He had taken the Kingslayer’s hand, which certainly made him less of a danger, but he was also a man vying for revenge.

This could be both a blessing and a curse, but Robb had no other choice but to make use of it. He needed to defeat the Kingslayer at all costs.

„Indeed,“ Robb said at last and smiled at his brave lords and ladies. „And that will essential for our plan…“

…


	44. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

The world was on fire. Flames grew higher and higher, swallowing the enemy like a hungry man his last supper. Dany shuddered at the sight, though she tried to put on a brave face. She had never experienced war and had only read about it in history books.

She tried to block out the smell of burned flesh and the arrows bouncing off their shields. Down below the hill, she spotted Dothraki screamers trying to hop over the sharp stakes and wooden barricades. Their flank was better protected than the opposing one, due to the thick forest spreading below the hill.

Yet, Tito and his brother Hibal urged their men to be vigilant.

“Shields and spears up!” she heard them shout as they continued to thrust their spears into approaching enemies.

Dany tried to forget about them, minding her own task. She had unleashed at least a dozen of arrows upon them. Yet, the increasing number of Dothraki screamers trying to overcome the barricades and stakes scared her.

_We would be all trapped and not even the dragons would be able to help us._

“Arrows!” Tito warned and all of them ducked their heads at the same moment. Some arrows snapped over their heads, but a good dozen of them got stuck in the shields of the Lhazareen warriors. ”Keep your shields up!”

A rush of fear washed over her as she gazed across the sea of flames stretching as far as her eyes could see. Somewhere over there was Jon. At least, she believed so, for she saw Vhagar hovering over the burning ditch.

The flames there were high and very bright. Dany had never seen anything like it.

Balerion and Meraxes were still attacking the rear, though less enthusiastic than before. For her, it seemed they grew bored with their task, but that was no surprise to her. They still had the mind of young children.

“Arrows!” Tito warned again as he found another arrow sticking in his wooden shield. More of them bounced off their painted shields or darted over their heads. Some of the women started to whimper, but Larsha showed no mercy.

“Crying is no use,” the young woman snapped and shifted her attention to Tito, armed with his shield and spear. Whenever an enemy rider dared to get close he thrust his spear with a precision that astounded Dany. ”Keep shooting! If they get up here we are all fucked!”

Fear washed over Dany s she watched the dark shapes of the riders glimmering in the rising sun. The sky had lightened a little, though a strange darkness had spread over the other side of the battlefield.

Nocking another arrow, she turned back to look at the dragons circling above their heads.

 _Would they hear me from the distance_ , she wondered and unleashed an arrow on a Dothraki warrior.

The arrow hit his horse right in the neck. The animal reared and at once the man ended up in the mud to be killed by another arrow.

“Arrows!” Tito warned again and Dany lowered her head as quickly as possible. One of the girls, not far from her, was hit and whimpered in pain.

“More arrows!” one of the Lhazareen warriors shouted and another volley was unleashed upon them. "More arrows!"

“Why are they all coming here?” Larsha asked in a frustrated voice. ”This position is much harder to take than the other one…,” she continued, but was interrupted by an arrow snapping past her head.

 _Too close_ , Dany thought, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. _Too close._

“You are right,” Tito remarked and pulled his shield over his head to cover them. ”But the dragons might have lured them here. The Dothraki screamers must have held their reserve back and watched us from the distance. They only started to attack us after your dragons burned their rear.”

“I could call for the dragons back and set the forest below us on fire,” she offered, though that was a more than a dangerous suggestion. The wind was currently in their favor, but one change and they would all be dead.

“No,” Tito replied and shook his head. ”I will lighten the beacon…to inform the others about our peril.”

“But they might need the men on the other side…,” she countered, but Tito silenced her with a shaking head.

“It seems we were wrong and they decided to focus their attack on this position. Jon specifically told me to alarm him if we are in danger,” Tito insisted and gave her a reassuring smile. ”Keep shooting and all will be well!”

“You heard my brother!” Larsha shouted at the other women and girls. "Nock your arrows!”

...


	45. Jaime

**Jaime**

Jaime could sense that his moment for revenge was close.

Their men had quickly jumped to attention when Robb Stark's vanguard had rushed towards them over the muddy field lined by two wooden areas to the west and east.

This time, Jaime had chosen the more favorable position, atop a hill, and allowing a commanding view over the battlefield below.

Behind the shrubbery and bushes growing along the muddy field, he could see the enemy lining up their troopes. Their amour, shields, and spear points reflected the bright sunlight like a mirrow, blinding him momentarily.

The sky agove him was drenched in bright blue, a handful of birds soaring over the tree crowns in the west, leading towards Oxcross.

Jaime held up his whole hand in front of his face and urged his horse down the hill. Below, the first smaller battles had broken out between their vaguard and the vanguard of the enemy.

From the corner of his eye, he could also see that the enemy’s archers moving up to the flanks. The men that littered their flanks with a rain of arrows that were absorbed by heavy shields and steep hill.

Their own archers returned the favor and the sound of trumpets rang loud and bright in Jaime’s ears. A heartbeat later, his Uncle Kevan and Ser Addam Marbrand appeared right beside him. The Mountain followed after them like a terrible shadow that threatend to take away the sunlight. Jaime despised this man more than anyone in this world, but he was useful fodder for the crows.

Jaime could see that he was aching to lead the vanguard and he was more than willing to grant him this wish.

„The time has come,“ his Uncle Kevan declared, his voice muffled by the visor of his helmet. „I shall take my place at the right flank, nephew.“

Ser Jaime nodded his head in ackowledgement. „Take care, dear uncle. I shall see you again when I have killed Robb Stark.“

His uncle only nodded his head in understanding and lead his horse. All the while Ser Addam was eying him with worry through the small visor of his helmet, his golden-green eyes gleaming like two gemstones.

„You ought to be careful, Jaime. You still have your sword hand, but you are out of balance.“

Jaime snorted. „I shall try. Now go back to your position. You know what you have to do.“

„To hold the left flank until you have taken care of the Stark boy,“ replied the older man before leaving him as well.

The Mountain was the last one to remain, just as the other good two-hundred men that were riding under his command. They were all excellent fighters and not afraid of getting themselves dirty. Among them were the Crakenhall brothers and of course the Mountain’s men, one of them more disgusting than the next. Especially, Armoy Lorch’s presence disgusted him more than words could say. Had he jested about his bloody deed during the Sack of King's Landing it would have been an easy thing for Jaime to cut his troath and throw him to the crows, but given the equal numbers on both sides and the importance of this battle, it was very likely many of these men would not see the next day anyway.

Jaime was one of them, but he didn’t care about his own life when it concerned Cersei, who was still waiting for him in King’s Landing.

His beloved sister who had mocked him when she had laid eyes upon his lacking arm, but had at the same time begged their lord father to allow him to stay in King’s Landing.

_I will kill Robb Stark_ , Jaime had sworn to his lord father instead and had ridden out to meet his enemy head on, like a true Lannister. _I will Robb Stark and then I will help you kill Renly, father._

Again the trumpet rang loud and bright in his ears, as the enemy’s cavalry charged at them, banners flying and arrows snapping in their wake.

The sound of rolling thunder filled his heart with fear and excitment and for that brief moment, Jaime believed he was going to die.

Within the blink of a moment, the world became blurred and distant. He could hear the screams of men and horses alike. Suddenly, the sky was no longer blue, but grey, like the wolf banner blowing in the distance, telling him where he needed to be.

Jaime crushed a Northman that had fallen from his horse and buried his spear deep. Around him, he heard the clamor of battle, and the drums pounded in constant rythm as flocks of arrows were exchanged over and over again.

Over his shoulder, he could see that their right flank was being pushed backwards, as the enemy’s cavalry riding under the banner of House Umber, continued to push against forward.

Even so, his Uncle Kevan stood strong and Jaime had no doubt that it would continue like this for a while.

Gritting his teeth, he wheeled his horse around and found his men all engaged in battle.

He raised his sword and shouted at his squire, Tyrek Lannister, Uncle Tygett’s only son.

„Keep that banner up, my boy! I want the wolf to see me!“

The boy’s answer was drowned out by the shouts of the men and the snapping of arrows, but when Jaime glimpsed over his shoulder, he found the Moutain pushing through the men like a horse through an unploughed field.

Jaime felt disgust at the man’s presence, but there was also relief, for the wolf banner was being protected by more men than before.

The Wolf’s Guard, Jaime had heard them call it during his unpleasant stay in Riverrun.

Yet, the Mountain gave no shit about the Wolf Guard and followed Jaime without hesitation.

Soon after, they were pushing through the enemy’s lines with all their strength. Robb Stark had men armed with pikes and axes, but many a man on horseback. Jaime pushed many a man from his horse while the Mountain squashed them with their spiky morningstar.

Jaime’s blood froze when the Moutain had crushed his skull and had trampled him beneath his feet.

Yet, all this was forgotten when he saw the wolf banner up close, barely one line separating them from each other.

Jaime couldn’t say how many men he had killed or how many crushed heads the Mountain had left in his wake, but when he finally laid eyes on the arrogant brat that had taken his hand, he felt the only rage.

The rage he had buried deep in his heart. Rage at Cersei for ruining their last meeting, rage at his father for sending him away, rage at Eddard Stark for mocking him as the Kingslayer, rage at everyone.

The world and most importantly at himself.

Thus, he came upon the Robb Stark like a madman and threw the spear with a great force, the presence of his knights nothing more than shadows in his wake.

The spear missed Robb Stark by a hair’s breadth. His horse reared in fear and threw him from his saddle, making him kiss the mud beneath.

Yet, two men quickly came his way. One strong and bulky, but to Jaime he was unimportant. He wheeled his horse around him and dealt him a savage blow with the back of his sword.

His enemy's scream was distant to his ears and the scream of the other man being run over by Ser Lyle’s horse. The Mountain seized another man and crushed his head like a toy. 

The man's survival was a black shadow upon Jaime’s honor.

_Protect my children while I am gone_ , Rhaegar Targaryen’s voice rang in his ears.

Guilt was clawing at his heart, as he saw Robb Stark trying to pull himself up.

Around him, the shouts of the Wolf's Guard could be heard.

„Lord Stark! Lord Stark has fallen!“

Jaime ignored them and kicked his feet into the sides of his horse, urging it torwards the foolish boy that had just picked up his sword.

He had been so driven by his need for revenge, that he hadn’t even noticed the presence of the wolf waiting in the shadows of the woods.

Suddenly, the beast was there, strong and ready. It was the first time since the beginning of the battle that he felt fear.

Within the blink of a moment, the beast had thrown himself upon Jaime’s horse. The animal shrieked and he slid from the saddle, landing on the ground in a rather unpleasant manner.

Somehow, he managed to stand and picked up his blade, now facing Robb Stark.

The Mountain had joined him by now, his bloody morning star exchanged for his massive long sword. He was aiming at the wolf that was baring his teeth at him.

He swung his blade and the wolf moved aside, throwing himself at the Moutain's horse.

Jaime made use of the moment to make his move at Robb Stark, who had also found his shield and was no facing him on equal standing.

Jaime glimpsed over his shoulder as he lifted his sword in defense.

His Uncle Kevan and Ser Addam were still holding the flanks, but the battle lines were now aligned with each other, the men crushing against each other like the waves against the cliffs of Casterly Rock.

Without a second thought, Jaime dealt the boy a savage blow. Robb Stark moved backward and parried another blow easily, but the next one was so fast, the boy was barely able to lift his sword in time.

_He was much faster the last time around_ , Jaime noticed, but perhaps he had hurt himself when had fallen from his horse. Jaime himself felt a throbbing sensation in his leg but ignored it.

„Come and fight me, boy!“ Jaime mocked. He moved faster than he thought possible and aimed at his head, dealing him a savage blow to the head. „Come and die!“

The boy tumbled backward, Jaime’s heart racing wildly as he kicked at the boy, pushing his shield away.

He lay upon the ground now and Jaime threw himself at him with all his weight. He wore proper plate and no sword would be able to penetrate it, but a dagger was the hidden weapon of every knight.

Pushing the boy unto the ground once more, Jaime slipped his dagger free and found the neck quickly enough, though it was hard to aim when the enemy was squirming beneath him like a maid trying to flee from her bridegroom.

He pressed the boy with all his strength to the ground and pushed the dagger deep into his neck. The boy squirmed a handful of more moments before he heard a choking sound and he moved no more.

When he heard the sound of clinking armor he turned his head and felt something hard colliding with his head.

It was then that Jaime heard the sound of clinking armor and something hard colliding with his head.

Then, there was only darkness.

„Kingslayer!“ he heard someone shout among the chaos in his head. „Ser Jaime! Brother!“

Many more voices filled his head, blurring together like a hive, painful and relieving at the same time.

„Ser Jaime,“ came another voice, softer and childlike. „Can you hear me?“

„Who,“ Jaime said and tried to speak. His voice felt raw and dry. He blinked and finally recognized the face of Tyrek Lannister. The boy's face was covered with dirt, his blond hair swept back and greasy. „Tyrek?“

„I am so glad,“ the boy said and smiled like only his father had been able to smile. „You are awake.“

Jaime tried to move his head and noticed the presence of a wrinkled old man with a silver chain dangling from his neck.

He stood beside the nearby table and was crushing herbs with a pestle, filling the dark room with a rather unpleasant smell.

Jaime himself felt miserable. His head was pounding and his legs felt heavy as he tried to sit up.

„Water,“ he begged. „I need water.“

The boy was quick on his feet to bring him water. As Jaime consumed the water greedily, a certain amount of clarity returned to him and he found men in grey and black finery standing beside the door. Their furred cloaks and burning gaze told him that he was no longer among friends.

„Where am I?“

„The Crag,“ Tyrek replied hesitatingly. He looked very distraught. „Robb Stark has taken the castle a fortnight ago.“

The boy’s answer sent Jaime’s head reeling with questions.

Jaime grabbed his arm and pulled him closer.

„What happened?“

„We lost,“ the boy stuttered and shook his head. „We killed a good thousand of Northmen, but the battle was lost. Uncle Kevan’s flank collapsed when Robb Stark led his reserve into battle.“

„That’s impossible,“ Jaime insisted. „Robb Stark was dead when I…,“ he trailed off but didn’t speak further when he saw the Tyrek’s shaking head.

Confused, he dropped his hand and searched the boy’s face.

„How?“

„Robb Stark fooled you,“ Tyrek explained. „He was not there. You must have mistaken him for someone else.“

„But the wolf,“ Jaime insisted. „The wolf was there.“

Tyrek was now close to tears. „I don’t know, cousin. I only know that Uncle Kevan is captured and badly hurt. I also know that Ser Marbrand managed to salvage some of our troops and retreated.“

Jaime gritted his teeth and tried to stand, but the men at the door lifted their spears in a threatening gesture.

He had never felt more anger raging inside him. He had failed again.

_He was a bloody fool and he wished he was dead._

…


	46. Jon

**Jon**

Higher and higher the flames danced, hovering above them like a fiery fist. Jon could only watch in silence, his hand gripped around the hilt of his sword.

 _So much destruction_ , he thought, a strange feeling of sickness settling in his stomach. _I never have seen such high flames. Was this due to the oil or the dragonfire?_

He felt the heat on his skin, touching him, trying to devour him. For a brief moment he feared being swallowed up by the flames, but Young Jemshid ordered the men to retreat back to a safe distance.

Even the hardened warrior grimaced at the destruction but didn’t lose sight of the battle.

“The left flank is asking for our assistance,” Young Jemshid remarked.”I will collect our men and lend Chief Mallor our help.”

“Do that, but leave the mounted men here,” Jon asked of him, his gaze fixed on the right flank, a bright light burning on the hills like a candle on an inky candlestick. ”The way to the right flank is much longer and the distance is easier to bridge atop a horse. It seems the Dothraki decided to attack both sides.”

Young Jemshied frowned but accepted his decision.

“I will do as you ask,” Young Jemshid agreed quickly. ”This is their last stand. It will soon be over.”

“It will soon be over,” Jon agreed and turned around to whistle. Ghost, who had observed the battle with impatience, was quickly at his side as he mounted his horse. Vhagar was still circling above his head, observing the sea of flames below.

Three-hundred men, riding under the command of Tito’s cousin, set out to strengthen the right flank.

Jon spurred his horse onwards, his eyes burning from the smoke. The smell of burned human flesh lingered in his nose and mouth. It was a sweet smell, with a hint of decay. 

_Not now_ , he thought and forcefully brushed those distracting thoughts away. _Not now._

He spotted the enemy from afar. It was hard to say how many of them were still out there, but their sight was enough to send Jon’s heart racing.

_I am coming!_

“After me!” Tito’s cousin shouted and lifted his spear. His men followed and Jon did the same, Ghost following after him like a loyal shadow.

It was good that they had scouted these lands a thousand times. It made it easier to make their way through the thick forest.

The enemy didn’t see them coming.

Jon buried his sword in the first enemy he found. Blood splattered over his cloak as the men dropped from his horse. Another man followed, but this one pulled himself back to his feet, only to be killed by a Lhazareen warrior.

Another one tried to unhorse Jon, but Ghost was much faster and buried his sharp teeth in the horse’s neck, tearing out flesh and bones.

Thus, the killing continued.

_Cut. Hack. Cut. Hack._

It was like a prayer on his lips and soon he forgot the pain he always felt when trying to lift his arm. The pain was a gift from his maiden battle in Qhohor. Yet, the pain remained, like a distant echo.

Another Dothraki screamer was hurled from his horse as he buried his blade in the animal’s neck. Arrows hissed through the air and Jon quickly moved his horse to the left side to evade the deadly missiles.

But this time he was no fast enough. The horse reared and Jon stumbled to the ground.

He heard the sound of cracking bones but was able to pull himself back to his feet.

He didn't waste another moment.

He picked up his blade and met the curved blade of a Dothraki warrior. Steel met steel, bringing forth a ringing sound. Left and right the blades met in a wild dance, but Jon was quicker and dealt the man a cut to the left. He whimpered, his hand gone, nothing more left than a bleeding stump.

Jon wasted no time and dealt him a cut to the neck. He wheezed for air and collapsed from his horse in a puddle of blood.

Ghost unhorsed another one while Jon attacked the next one and buried his blade to the hilt. Suddenly, his heart knew no fear, only the song of steel and blood.

…


	47. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

The sun had finally risen above the horizon, casting the scorched plain in a bloody glimmer. There was not much left, but ash and bones.

The smell of death filled her nostrils and her eyes burned from the smoke. Above the sky, she spotted Balerion and Vhagar, unperturbed by the past events. For them, all of this was a game.

Dany couldn’t say how many warriors perished in the flames, but she knew that they had won.

_A shattering defeat will make the Dothraki think twice before they attack again._

Jon had told her this and she had believed him. Yet, she was unable to shrug off this gloomy feeling as she followed after the other women. Only twenty died, but several of them suffered arrow wounds. The rest of them remained relatively unharmed, though almost all of them were covered in ash and soot.

Even now, flames were rising from the battlefield, sending plumes of dark smoke into the air. The sky was no longer clear blue, but dark and threatening. Dark dreary clouds hung over them, ready to pour down their load of rain.

Dany hoped for it. Her throat was dry and she longed to wash off the ash and guilt.

She tried to kill before, but this was different.

Thousands of Dothraki warriors perished in the flames. The thought alone made her shiver, though they won a victory.

Yet, there was no cheering. Most were just relieved that the battle was over.

Amidst this chaos she found Jon, stumbling over the dead bodies. She was only able to differentiate him from the other men because the Ghost was there, his fur covered with ash and blood.

Jon’s face was pitch black as if someone touched his head in a pot of ink.

Ghost was the first one to spot her and came running towards her, licking her hand as if he was searching for something to eat.

“There you are boy,” she said and patted his head before making her way towards Jon.

By then, he had turned around and brushed his hand over his face.

“It is over,” Jon said, in hallow almost gloomy voice. His eyes were red from the smoke, almost bleeding.

He looked terrible as if someone had cast a shadow over him.

“We won,” she said, allowing herself to smile in relief. He didn’t return his smile and only pulled her into a tight embrace, burying his head in her shoulder.

“Jon,” she asked as he trembled. ”What is wrong?”

Then she felt something wet on her face. She lifted her head to the sky.

Then it started to rain.

Yet, it was no common rain.

The rain was as black as ink.

…


	48. Arya

**Arya**

Volantis stank. It was the only way Arya could describe the pungent smell that seemed to pervade every part of this city. It smelled of sweat, perfume, and the spices shipped to the city by the mighty galleys anchoring in the city’s massive port.

On such a galley Arya had traveled over the Narrow Sea.

Four weeks, she had counted. Four weeks, of storms and vomiting, made Arya glad that she had firm ground beneath her feet. To save her coin she had worked as a cabin boy and the sailors had taken some odd liking to her.

_Northern boy_ , they used to call her in their strange dialect of Valyrian. She had learned many more words of this language called Bastard Valyrian, but she had soon realized that it wasn’t enough to hold a long conversation when she started to ask around for a ship to Astapor. Most of the captains didn’t understand her or thought her a common street urchin wanting to steal their goods.

Thus, she had wasted two weeks. She had also tried to improve her appearance. She had washed her hair in one of the numerous fountains, littering the city, and had even stolen a finer cloak.

Yet, she had no luck.

By now, she had also used up her coin and her midday meal was a handful of peaches stolen from one of the common pleasure gardens.

_No luck_ , she realized as he spotted the sun disappearing in the east. The hot ball of heat painted the sky in a pale velvet color that was reminiscent of a soft blanket. To forget her hunger, she went to explore the city.

By now, she had seen every part of it but still marveled at its beauty.

She had once thought of King’s Landing as a massive maze, but Volantis put the capital to shame.

Volantis spread over the mouth of the Rhoyne like a sea of roofs, towers, and twisted alleys. Arya got lost more than once, but she learned soon enough to recall the strange symbols that marked the districts of the city. She couldn’t read them, but at least she was able to find her way.

Not that it was that difficult. One could say that the city was separated into two halves, connected by the Long Bridge. This Long Bridge was supported by massive piers once built by the Valyrians or that was what one of the girls working in the nearby taverns had told her.

Arya had believed her. Nobody else but the dragonlords could have built this beautiful archway made of black stone and carved with sphinxes, manticores, dragons, and other beasts yet unknown to her.

By now, Arya knew the western part of the city best. It was the only place where foreigners were allowed to move freely. The eastern part, also called the Black Walls, was the home of the rich and noble families of Volantis. As a foreigner, Arya wasn’t allowed to enter, but she had once climbed the highest hill overlooking the city to get a glimpse at the two-hundred feet high walls made of black dragonstone.

Arya’s breathing had grown heavy and the sun had disappeared behind the horizon when she reached her sleeping place, in her favorite pleasure garden. Horonno’s garden it was called, a name of one of the rulers of the city or so one of the inhabitants had told her. Triarchs they were called, but they weren’t like their kings. Every year they were re-elected or that is what she recalled.

Not that she cared. What good did kings ever do for her family? The Mad King had killed her grandfather and uncle and King Joffrey had named her father a common traitor. She only cared about finding Jon.

_I will find him no matter how long it takes_ , she told herself and put the last piece of fruit into her mouth. The peaches were fat, fruity, and sweet, but Arya still longed for meat. Only a day ago, she had stabbed a squirrel that was trying to hide its nuts under the tree she used as her sleeping place. Yet, there had been hardly any skin on it and thus Arya returned to eat her peaches.

_I could go to the taverns_ , she mused but hesitated. It was the loud grumbling noise of her stomach that convinced her to go through with the idea.

_I will need my strength_ , she thought, and gathered her belongings. The night had fallen over the city when she arrived at the bustling square filled with fishmongers. Not far from the square lay several cheaper taverns and brothels.

The smell of perfume filled her nose as she passed the first establishment. One of the girls, garbed in a blue dress, winked at her. One girl with massive breasts nearly dragged her inside, but Arya proved quicker and was able to slip away.

Finally, she arrived at a tavern and slipped inside. In passing, she was able to steal a few silver coins from a sleeping merchant, but it wouldn’t be enough to buy a rich meal.

Stew had to be enough for now.

“Here, boy,” the serving girl told her and handed her a steaming bowl of stew, littered with meat and other leftovers. Arya sat down in the inner-courtyard to watch the sailors and a good hundred of sellswords.

They drank, gambled, and whored. Her Lady Mother would have had a fit if she saw her among these men, but most ignored her. Now and then, she also spotted a rich merchant with his slaves, but the sellswords stood out the most.

Two sellsword companies had arrived in the last weeks. One was called the Company of the Cat and the other the Golden Company. Especially, the second one had sparked Arya’s curiosity.

Even far away in Westeros, one knew the tales of the Golden Company. They had been founded by no other than Bittersteel and more than once they had tried to return to Westeros to crown a Blackfyre King. Yet, all Blackfyre’s were dead and gone and now they were just exiles and a very famous company.

Arya had of course asked around why they were here. Sellsword only went where they could hope for coin and rumors were running wild about their next contract. Arya hoped it could lead her near Braavos or any other port where she could board a ship to go to the city of a thousand temples.

Perhaps she could even pose as a squire for a while and earn some coin and learn some swordplay along the way.

The thought was very tempting, but she had to be careful. While she had crossed over the Narrow Sea, she had started to bleed. There had been cramps and headaches too, but the fact that Arya had finally become a woman had scared her more than anything in the world.

And ever since her breasts had also started to change. There would come a time when no one would believe that she was a boy.

And there was another matter that scared her: being caught and sold as a slave.

In the North they had servants, but that was not the same. Here in the east, every slave was branded with a special symbol and she had heard that those brave enough to run away always ended up tortured or whipped to death. Arya had yet to witness this barbaric practice with her own eyes, but the thought alone made her shudder.

She licked her bowl when she was finished, but longed for more food. Greedily, she eyed the other guests and her eyes fell back upon the group of sellswords.

There were Tyroshi with pink and blue hair, but also black men with beautiful beards and rustling silken cloaks. Some had scars as old as Arya and others had beautiful rings to decorate their arms and necks.

They all spoke in a tongue that was foreign to Arya. _Bastard Valyrian._

The man in the middle stood out as well. He wore rich robes of green silk and his silver hair was longer than Sansa’s, all shiny and properly brushed. His ears were even more beautiful to behold and pierced with jewels in all different colors.

The man beside him was even more interesting. He was garbed in beautiful armor, all polished like a looking glass and a gilded cloak fluttering from his shoulders. Yet, his face couldn’t be more ugly. It was a mess of scars and reddened by the burning sun.

His barking laughter could be heard everywhere and Arya was strangely reminded of a large bear in a fair.

Even so, she was sure that this man was someone important. In fact, she believed that all these men were important.

Perhaps the captains of even leaders of the Golden Company.

"Wait here,“ Arya told her direwolf and put the empty bowl aside. She tried to stand strong and appear confident, as the approached the men. „I am going to find some coin.“

The men continued to laugh and whisper, but when Arya stopped in front of their table, they turned their heads and their eyes fell upon her.

"May we help you, girl?“ asked the ugly man with the gilded cloak.

Arya’s heart sank and her grip tightened around the pommel of her sword.

„I am a girl, but I have learned the Water Dance by no other than Syrio Forel.“

Silence reigned and some of the men started to snicker loudly.

„Who is this Syrio Forel, girl?“ the silver-haired man asked. „Some famous swordsman?“

„The First Sword of Braavos!“ Arya exclaimed. „Have you never heard of him?“

„We do not care much about Braavosi here in Volantis,“ snorted the ugly man with the gilded cloak and placed his clenched hand on the table beside him. „Now state your business or leave us at peace, silly girl.“

„I want to join,“ she declared. „Your sellsword company.“

The men stared at her in disbelief and she quickly came up with another reason before they could start laughing.

„I can read and write as well. I am better with numbers than most. I can work.“

„And skinny…the girl wouldn’t even make a good whore,“ another man snapped. He was even uglier, but Arya didn’t pay him any mind. To show embarrassment would make it worse. „Give her some coin to make her leave, Toyne, or we will have her running after us like one of these dirty street cats.“

The men roared with laughter and would have probably continued to laugh, but then their eyes widened in shock and fell upon someone behind her.

When Arya felt a wet tongue touching her cheek, she knew it was Nym who had joined them despite her command.

Arya quickly grabbed the wolf’s head and tried to hold her back, least the men thought her a danger.

They all stared at her in awe. Even the ugly man with the gilded cloak. The one that was called Toyne.

„What the fuck is that?“

„Its a wolf,“ the silver-haired man added and put his cup back on the table. „A very big wolf.“

„It‘s a direwolf,“ another man added suddenly. His voice was laced with a familiar accent and when Arya lifted her head she found a Northern face looking down at her. It belonged to a man with scarcely any hair on his head and a thick black beard gracing his chin. The black bear on his green surcoat told her who he was. _A Mormont._ „And the girl is born of Stark blood. She has Eddard Stark’s coloring.“

Arya’s heart made a jump when she heard this, but she quickly regained her composure.

Fear cuts deeper than swords.

„I am Arya Stark of Winterfell,“ she said and played along. „And this is my direwolf Nymeria. And you, good Ser, you are a bloody Mormont.“

„Ser Jorah Mormont,“ the man grumbled and drew closer, but Nym lifted her head and bared her teeth at him. „The man your father wished to kill. I wonder what you are doing here, Lady Stark?“

„I am trying to escape my marriage,“ she replied bluntly. „To a Frey. Elmar the Nosepicker.“

The ugly man named Toyne burst out in laughter and slammed his hand on the table.

„A good choice, girl,“ he said and brushed his arm over his chin. „I can understand why you wouldn’t want to hump one of these ugly weasels. Well, I am have no need for a squire, but the daughter of Eddard Stark? Now that is a fine gift for our prince. I am sure your brother will also be happy to see you again, won’t he?“

Arya was confused by the man’s words.

„Gift for a prince? My brother?“

Toyne leaned forward and bared his ugly yellow teeth. „The bastard brother of yours who whisked away Princess Daenerys Targaryen…the person that will bring us home.“

…


	49. Barristan

**Ser Barristan**

Hills and valleys of pasture as far as the eye could see. Barristan and his companions had traveled for weeks.

The lands of Lhazar were vast and dry. It hardly rained, though the nights could be rather chilly.

Ser Barristan was used to the pleasant weather of King’s Landing, but his armor kept him warm enough.

His traveling companions thought differently.

The constant heat was a pain for them. They were sweating like pigs and never failed to complain about their task.

“How did a Princess of House Targaryen end up in a brothel anyway?” asked Old Harwin.

Ser Barristan didn’t answer immediately. The very thought of seeing Queen Rhaella’s daughter being subjected to such humiliation made his blood boil.

“I heard that the Princess and her brother fell victim to an assassination attempt,” Barristan answered vaguely. ”She must have been captured and sold. If she is half as lovely as Queen Rhaella it doesn’t surprise me that some pillow house bought her, but how she ended up in the North is a rather colorful tale indeed.“

„Indeed,“ Jory added and brushed the sweat from his brow. „A very colorful tale.“

“And a year ago you still served King Robert,” Harwin countered not for the first time.

“King Robert is dead and a bastard occupies the throne,” Barristan replied more sharply than he intended. “Or do you believe that Lord Eddard Stark committed treason?”

“No,” Harwin replied with utter conviction. ”Lord Stark confessed his treason, but there is no doubt that the King is a bastard.”

“Something we can agree on,” Ser Barristan replied and kicked his boots in the sides of his horse.

They were riding along a swirling rode when he spotted the city they had been searching for.

_Lhazosh._

The girl in Braavos hadn‘t known exactly where Jon Snow and the Princess had traveled, but almost everyone in Lhazar heard of the two foreigners and their dragons.

Ser Barristan didn’t believe his ears when they had heard their fantastical tales.

The dragons had burned a whole horde of Dothraki, they had told him, but Barristan was unable to believe it.

The dragons couldn’t be older than a year. How could they be that powerful?

“Lhazosh,” Jory remarked and pointed at the city walls looming ahead. ”It looks just like they described it: A city with high and pale walls.”

“It does,” Ser Barristan agreed but stilled when he suddenly spotted a flying creature blocking out the sunlight.

“Gods be good!” Harwin shouted and pointed at the sky.

For a brief moment, Barristan thought he might collapse from his horse. His other two companions were not any different, their faces pale like snow.

“Dragons!” Ser Barristan gasped, his eyes fixed at the creatures soaring over their heads.

They were as big as small horses, their brightly-colored skin glittering like diamonds.

Ser Barristan was relieved.

_We found them._

He ignored the Northmen and led his horse towards the city gates.

The people of Lhazosh eyed them curiously, but none of them were rude or unfriendly.

Yet, it was rather difficult to find someone who was able to speak their language.

It took a while, before they found a merchant, clearly a Lhazareen, who was able to speak Bastard Valyrian.

“I am seeking an audience with the owner of these gracious dragons,” he explained his purpose.

The man gave him a strange look but answered nonetheless.

“You have to go to the Chief’s home…Chief Mallor is his name,” he explained and pointed down a large street lined with trees and carts. ”Go down the street and cross the large courtyard…the guards will stop you, but they will understand you. Chief Mallor is a learned man.”

“My thanks,” Ser Barristan replied and wanted to hand him a coin, but the man refused.

They did as they were told and found the Chief’s house without much effort. As expected, the guards stopped them.

“I am here to seek an audience with the owner of the dragons,” Barristan explained his purpose again.

“What is your name?” one of them inquired mistrustfully.

“I am Ser Barristan Selmy, I was a knight in the service of Princess Daenerys’,” he explained and turned around to point at his other companions.

“We are here to find Jon Snow…,” Harwin explained plainly and without much fanfare.

“Jon,” the man said, recognition washing over his face. ”I know Jon of Winterfell. I shall call for him if you state your business.”

Harwin frowned.

„His father sent us here to speak with him,“ he explained quickly.

“His father,” he muttered and nodded his head in understanding. Then, he opened the gates and called for one of the younger guardsmen.

Ser Barristan didn’t understand what he told the young boy, but a moment later disappeared.

Afterward, he led them into an airy courtyard.

A horde of children were playing there, throwing colorful balls at each other. They eyed him curiously and a particularly cheeky girl even pointed a finger at him.

They stopped before a staircase and the children continued to giggle. Ser Barristan tried to ignore them, but that was harder than expected. Their bright laughter made his head squirm and he felt strangely anxious.

“There they are!” exclaimed the young guardsman from earlier and pointed at Ser Barristan and his companions.

Behind him, Ser Barristan spotted two young people.

One was a girl, clad in pale robes and sandals. One could have thought her a sheepherder, but her pale silver hair and her bright purple eyes told him that his long travel was not in vain.

Next to her stood a young man, but Ser Barristan was unable to make out his face from the distance.

He was neither tall nor small, his tanned skin framed by dark-brown hair. Barristan guessed that this was Jon Snow.

“Who do you bring, Hibal?” the girl asked, her voice soft and laced with curiosity.

“Ser Barristan,” the man answered and pointed first at Ser Barristan and then at his traveling companions. ”And this one seeks Jon…he says his brother sent him here.”

“Lord Stark sent you,” Jon Snow said, astonishment evident in his voice. Finally, he stepped from the shadows, his grey eyes searching for Harwin’s face. ”Why?”

“To take you home,” the Harwin explained plainly. ”Why else?”

Jon Snow opened his mouth as if to speak, but then he stopped himself. Abruptly, his gaze flickered to Ser Barristan.

“Barristan Selmy?” he asked in disbelief. ”The Barristan Selmy?”

He sounded almost like a little child and Ser Barristan felt a hint of sympathy for the young man.

Jon Snow didn’t waste another moment and explained Ser Barristan’s relationship with the Princess’ family.

“This man…he is very famous…he used to serve your family,” Jon Snow told the Princess.

Ser Barristan, thankful for the help, made his way up the steps, and dropped to his knees.

The girl paled, her eyes wide in shock.

A trembling smile curled on her lips.

“Did you know my Lady Mother and my brothers Rhaegar and Viserys?”

Barristan couldn’t help but smile and took her hand. She was clearly surprised by this gesture but didn’t appear frightened.

“Of course I did,“ Barristan replied and winced at his trembling voice. ”You are her very image…and your Lord Brother Prince Rhaegar was a good friend of mine. I still weep for his loss.”

Ser Barristan felt relief washing over him when he noticed the Princess’ tears.

“You are welcome, Ser Barristan,” she began, but Jon Snow frowned. His hand was resting on the pommel of his blade, though Ser Barristan was sure that the boy knew what kind of an enemy he would have to face.

“You served King Robert,” Jon Snow said rather icily. ”Why were you suddenly prepared to change your loyalty?”

“King Robert is dead,” Barristan explained bluntly. ”And his son dismissed me, but the boy is no true King. There is much you need to hear.”

“Maybe,” Jon Snow replied and dropped his hand. ”But I will kill you if you try to fool us.”

“No harm will come to you or the Princess,” Ser Barristan assured him.

“I am a traitor…you may kill me if you wish,” he told her and dropped his head.

A moment of silence followed before the Princess started to laugh.

“Why would I want to kill you?” she asked, her voice brimming with emotions. ”I want to hear about my family. I doubt a headless man would be able to do that.”

Ser Barristan didn’t believe his ears and met her gaze.

“Nothing would please me more.”

“Good,” she said and jerked her head at Jon, a smile lightening up her face. ”But you shouldn't kneel for me. Jon is my brother’s son…Prince Rhaegar’s son.”

Barristan thought he misheard, but he found no hint of dishonesty showing on her lovely face.

Silence stretched between them as she continued to smile at the young man.

Jon Snow still carried the same unreadable look, his features a grimace of mistrust.

Suddenly, his eyes were no longer grey, but dark as the night. These eyes were familiar, but maybe his mind was trying to play a trick on him.

He was an old man and his eyes were growing weak.

“I don’t understand…,” Barristan muttered helplessly, but then Jon Snow finally provided him the answer he was searching for.

“Aye” Jon Snow admitted hesitatingly and looked over to Harwin and the others. ”Lady Lyanna Stark is my mother and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen is my father.”

…


	50. Jon

**Jon**

The smell of roasted fish and sheep mixed with the smell of spices, but Jon felt no urge to eat. Their guests were different. Ser Barristan and Lord Eddard’s men ate as if they hadn’t seen a proper meal in weeks.

“I apologize for the meager meal, but we didn’t expect guests,” Daenerys explained and handed Harwin a wooden bowl filled with steaming meat and vegetables.

“It is no bother,” Harwin replied politely and started to shovel the food into his mouth.

“Ser Barristan,” Jon addressed the elderly knight. ”You mentioned that King Joffrey dismissed you. May I ask why he would do something foolish like that? Surely, the King is aware of your reputation.”

Ser Barristan’s gaze darkened and he put down his bowl.

“I don’t think it was Joffrey's decision. That was Queen Cersei's doing. She always wanted her brother to rise to the position of Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. The reason was ludicrous. She accused me of negligence when I …,” he about to continue, but stopped abruptly, a strange expression washing over his face.

“Gods…I am a fool,” Ser Barristan muttered to himself and craned his neck to look at Jon. He looked regretful as if he was about to apologize, but then he stopped himself and cleared his throat before he continued to speak. ”I think it is best when I start at the beginning…I met Lord Eddard Stark not long ago when he still occupied the position of Hand of the King. Both Lord Stark and I found ourselves removed from our positions, though due to different reasons. Lord Eddard Stark was a victim of Cersei Lannister’s paranoia. He and King Robert had a fight over you and Princess Daenerys, but I doubt King Robert would have ever accused him of treason. Luckily, he could avoid death by taking the black.“.

Jon froze, unable to wrap his head around Ser Barristan’s answer. Treason was not something he associated with Lord Stark, but then he recalled what Ser Barristan told them not long ago.

_The boy is no true King…he is a bastard._

“You mentioned that Joffrey is a bastard. Did Lord Stark also find out about Joffrey’s true birth?”

“Perhaps,” Ser Barristan confirmed and nodded his head. ”But what I know is that the boy is supposedly the son of Cersei Lannister and her brother Jaime Lannister the Kingslayer. At least, that is what Stannis Baratheon has been spreading everywhere in the realm. As I said, the only thing I knew is that Lord Stark had a falling out with King Robert over your association with Princess Daenerys and that was partly the reason Cersei Lannister had him captured.“

Jon swallowed hard. It was too much to take in, but the worst was this clenching feeling of guilt.

_It is all my fault. By running away I made it only worse._

Shame washed over him, but there were still many more questions lingering on the tip of his tongue.

“And my sisters?” Jon asked. ”Are they still in Lannister hands?”

“Lord Stark sent them away in time,“ Jory explained. „He also tasked us to bring you and Princess Daenerys to safety.“

Hearing all this helped to ease the tension in his body, but the guilt was still there.

“I assume King Robert wished to kill us?” Daenerys asked, who had been listening to their exchange in silence. She was trembling, her violet eyes filled with anguish. “Wasn’t it enough that he killed my brother?“

„That is why we came,“ Harwin added his voice, though Jon noticed the tension in his bearing. „To protect you, Princess Daenerys.“

„But not because you think it is the right thing to do,“ Daenerys replied angrily. „To you, I am just a Targaryen.“

„We gave a vow,“ Alyn added with a frown after he had taken a sip from his wooden cup. He had winced at the taste of the ale. It was probably too weak for his taste, but the Lhazareen preferred to mix it with water and honey. „And we Northmen do not take vows lightly.“

„I am also a Targaryen,“ Jon replied. „Did King Robert know?“

„No,“ Ser Barristan replied. „But he was certainly angry that the son of his oldest friend took off with a Targaryen Princess. They would have killed you as well if you got into the way. Lord Stark vehemently disagreed with the King on this matter and even resigned from his position and was forced to take the Black.“

“Lord Stark took the black?” Jon asked as if to confirm the truth once more. It was a strange irony. Jon had thought of joining the Night’s Watch, but now Lord Stark was forced to join.

It felt as if they had traded places.

“He did,” Ser Barristan confirmed and emptied his cup. Daenerys was quick to refill it, which caused an odd reaction from Ser Barristan. Jon knew the reason. It must be strange for him to see Queen’s Rhaella daughter act like a servant. ”But I suppose it is a consolation that Lord Stark didn’t lose his head. Much bloodshed was avoided, though there are two contenders that intend to claim the crown from Joffrey.”

“Who are these contenders?” Daenerys asked curiously. Sometimes, Jon forgot how little she knew about Westeros.

“Stannis Baratheon and Renly Baratheon both challenged Joffrey for the crown,” Harwin added. ”There is no doubt that Stannis has a stronger claim, but Renly Baratheon wed Margaery Tyrell and enjoys the support of the Reach and the Stormlands. I am no seer, but there is a great chance Renly will win this struggle.”

“I think you shouldn’t underestimate the might of the Westerlands,” Ser Barristan replied and put his empty bowl aside.”The fact that Stannis and Renly are fighting each other instead of the enemy will cost them dearly. Renly should have submitted and accepted his brother’s claim. Lord Stannis has only one child, a sickly daughter. With luck, his older brother would have been prepared to accept him as his heir, but power has tempted even the strongest of men.“

Jon felt as if his words were not only directed at Renly.

_Does he think I am striving for the crown now that I am aware of the truth?_

“I am not Renly Baratheon,” Jon replied bluntly and met the knight’s gaze. ”I don’t claim what is not mine to claim. I don’t care about the Iron Throne. Before I met Daenerys I intended to join the Night’s Watch. Besides, too many, I would only be a second son born from a questionable marriage. I have no claim to the throne, even though my father was a prince and my mother was a highborn lady.”

Ser Barristan’s expression told him that he disagreed with his assessment.

“Questionable marriage or not,” Ser Barristan said after a moment of silence had settled over them, his blue eyes flickering back to Daenerys."But you are wed to the Princess. Your marriage legitimizes you,” he added and angled his head to look at Aemon. He sat next to Ghost and threw around his toys. He was babbling, but now as that the knight's gaze fell on him he stopped and fell silent. ”And your son…most of Prince Rhaegar’s former allies would consider him the rightful heir.”

“Aemon is a babe,” Jon replied more sharply than intended. He knew what the knight was trying to say and it may even be true, but he recalled all too well what happened to his half-sister Rhaenys and his half-brother Aegon. Both of them had been brutally murdered. ”I don’t see him leading armies anytime soon. And most of my father’s supporters are probably long dead. It has been nearly eighteen years.”

“I have to disagree,” Ser Barristan replied and sounded slightly disappointed. ”The Mad King may be cursed, but your Father Prince Rheager was beloved by many. I know what lies they spread about him, but until my dying day, I am prepared to swear that he never raped your Lady Mother. To think that others think him capable of such a vile deed disgusts me. Prince Rhaegar had is failures, but cruelty was not one of them.”

 _He thinks I am not aware of the truth_ , Jon realized. _He mistook my sharp words for hatred._

“Don’t fret about it, Ser Barristan,” Jon assured him quickly and forced a smile over his lips. ”I am aware that my father didn’t harm my mother. I know that he loved her dearly.”

Surprise washed over Ser Barristan’s face and Harwin nearly choked.

“How do you know?” Ser Barristan asked in disbelief.

“Jon found my brother’s letters. Lord Stark kept them hidden in Lady Lyanna’s tomb,” Daenerys answered and hopped to her feet. Quickly, she rushed to the wooden box in which they kept their coin and other precious possessions. It took only a brief moment before she found the bound letters and returned to his side.

“Here,” Daenerys said and showed Ser Barristan the letters. ”They are written in High Valyrian, but they are from my brother’s hand.”

“It is true,” Jon confirmed. By now, he was able to read parts of the letter. His father’s name and the title was the first thing Daenerys had taught him how to read and to write. ”And the letters are all addressed to the same person… Aemon Targaryen. He supposedly resides at the Wall. At least that is what I was able to deduce from their correspondence. I also know that he is our Grand-Uncle. I am by no means an expert on Targaryen History, but I know that King Maekar had a son named Aemon Targaryen. He refused the crown in favor of his younger brother King Aegon the Unlikely.”

“That is all correct,” Ser Barristan muttered to himself as he started to unfold one of the letters. Swiftly, his blue eyes wandered over the faded paper. He gasped.

“You can read it, can’t you, Ser Barristan?” Daenerys asked and leaned closer.

“I can,” Ser Barristan replied, an elated smile curling on his lips. ”I watched over both your brothers while they were learning their letters. I am certainly not as proficient as your brother Prince Rhaegar, but it is enough to decipher the content. It seems the Prince was holding secret correspondence with your Grand-Uncle Aemon. No wonder, given how wary the King was of his son.”

“Wary?” Jon asked. ”Why was the Mad King wary of my father?”

Ser Barristan sighed and folded the letter.

“King Aerys threatened to disinherit him in favor of Prince Viserys. He feared Rhaegar more than he loved him. Not without reason... Some say the Tourney at Harrenhall was part of Prince Rhaegar’s plan to depose his father. Sadly, his plans were foiled."

“Foiled?” Daenerys asked.”By whom?”

Ser Barristan’s gaze darkened and Harwin’s frown deepened. Jory was rubbing his beard in confusion and Alyn was watching Jon with great curiosity.

“The same man who sent me here,” Ser Barristan answered, his voice brimming with subdued anger. ”Lord Varys, the Master of Whisperers informed the King about Prince Rhaegar’s plot. He was the reason the King Aerys was able to remain on the Iron Throne. However, he is also the reason I was able to find you. Forgive me, for making a common cause with this man, but it was the only way. He asked me to send word if I am able to find you, but I have no intention to fulfill this errant. I don’t trust him nor do I know what his real motives are.”

I misjudged him, Jon realized and felt his mistrust ebb away. _He seems honest._

“This Lord Varys,” Daenerys said and broke the silence. ”Do I understand this correctly? First, he served my Lord Father and helped to foil my brother’s plots and then he changed sides to serve King Robert? And now he wanted you to find us? I agree with you…this man seems fishy.”

“He only asked me to find the owner of the dragons…a Princess of House Targaryen,” Ser Barristan corrected himself and graced Jon with an apologetic smile. ”And I agree with your assessment, Princess. Lord Varys cannot be trusted.”

Then Ser Barristan turned to look at him and cleared his throat.

“That brings me back to our earlier topic. You say that no one would support you, but I have to disagree. Princess Daenerys shows a great resemblance to her Lady Mother, you are wed to her, you have a healthy son and more importantly…you have three dragons, the very symbol of House Targaryen. For you, it may sound trivial, but as I told you before…your Prince Rhaegar was beloved and some of his allies yet linger in this world, waiting for an opportunity to take revenge. Surely, your cousin Lord Robb would support you?”

Ser Barristan looked at him, but Jon felt as if the question was meant for Harwin and the others.

The massive man shrugged his shoulders and put away his wooden cup.

“I don’t know my Lord’s mind,” he explained and met Jon’s gaze. „But I believe that Lord Stark would not go against Lord Stark’s wishes. Lord Stark wanted us to bring you to Winterfell and to protect you.“

Jon felt a gust of warmth washing over him.

He didn’t know what to say.

He exhaled deeply and found Daenerys staring at him with a tense expression.

„I doubt Lord Stark would have thought the same way if he knew about our dragons,“ Daenerys said and voiced her true thoughts.

„We do not know,“ Harwin replied. „But they are certainly a problem.“

„We must think about this,“ Jon replied. „Give us some time, Jory.“

„Time you shall have,“ Harwin replied and shrugged his shoulders. „But we cannot stay here forever.“

„And in the meantime, you are our guests,“ Daenerys added a bit friendlier.

“I thank you for the meal, my Lady,” Harwin thanked her. ”We would be pleased to rest.“

“Of course,” Daenerys said and rose to her feet to open the door. ”I will show you the way to the guest chambers. I asked one of the girls to prepare a bed for you. I hope all is to your taste, my Lords.”

Jon watched them go, but when he shifted his attention back to Ser Barristan he noticed that the old knight was staring at him.

_He hopes to find my father hidden in the features' of my face._

“I don’t have much of my father, do I?” Jon asked him with a wry smile and started to collect the bowls.

“You do have the Stark coloring…nobody can deny that,” Ser Barristan confirmed what Jon already knew. ”But you do have much of Prince Rhaegar’s temper. He always had a rather melancholic character. You also have his eyes. It is subtle, but it is there. In truth, I am an old man and my memory is fading. I don’t have a clear painting of him in my head to compare him to you, but I understand now why Lord Stark tried to hide you away in the North. Those who knew Prince Rhaegar would be able to notice the resemblance. This I can assure you.”

Jon couldn’t help but laugh. He knew that Prince Rhaegar was his father, but it felt strange for him to think of him as such.

“What does it matter, though?” he asked. ”Do you really think they would support us? Do you even know where I found Daenerys?”

Ser Barristan’s gaze darkened, guilt evident on his wrinkled face.

“I heard about it, but the past doesn’t matter. Nobody will care about that once…,” Ser Barristan continued, but Jon couldn’t help but interrupt him.

“Our enemies would call her a whore and they would call me a bastard. Why should I give up this peaceful life for a crown that nearly wiped out my entire family?” he asked and leaned over to pat Aemon’s curly head. He was sleeping, his head resting on Ghost’s soft fur.

Ser Barristan remained silent.

He simply lifted his cup and drank, before speaking again.

“That is your wish,” the elderly knight said at last.”But what of the Princess? Have you considered her wishes? And you should also consider the dragons. Do you think you can hide here forever?”

“What you say is true,” Jon admitted grudgingly. ”But Daenerys’ knowledge about her family is lacking. She only knows bits and pieces.”

Ser Barristan was stunned.

“And she never asked you?”

Jon swallowed hard and shook his head.

“No,” he replied hesitatingly and leaned over to hoist Aemon into his arms. ”But why should she? I have never personally known anyone of Targaryen blood besides Daenerys. Maybe you can help us both to get a greater understanding of our past. Only then will we be able to make a decision. You intend to stay, don’t you, Ser Barristan?”

Hope and warmth washed over Ser Barristan’s weary face.

“Of course,” he said and lowered his head in reverence. ”Nothing would please me more.”

...


	51. Mel

**Mel**

Her king and the usurper Renly were supposed to meet at a grassy sward dotted with raw stumps of felled trees. They had been felled by her king’s men to prepare for the coming battle: to built siege towers and catapults.

Across the rain-sodden field to her left, she could see Storm’s End, a mass of pale grey stone, her king’s army encircling the big castle from all sides.

Even Mel had heard the tales about this ancient castle. It had been raised in ancient days by a man named Durran, the first Storm King, who had won the love of the fair Elenei, daughter of some false sea or wind god. On the night of their wedding, the lady had yielded her maidenhood to Durran and had doomed herself to a mortal’s death. To take revenge her parents had unleashed their wrath upon Durran's stronghold. His friends and brothers and all the wedding guests had been crushed, but Elenei had protected him and in return, he had declared war upon the gods.

Five more castles Durran had built, each larger than the next, only to see them smashed to pieces. His lords had pleaded with him to send his lady back to the sea, but he had refused and only the seventh castle had stood strong, where Durran Godsgrief and his fair lady had dwelled until the end of their days. The secret how built the castle had been given to him by no other than Bran the Builder, who had supposedly built the Wall.

To Mel’s ears, these were all false tales of gods long forgotten. What counted was the power of her lord. In him, she put her trust, but again she was tested when she saw that not her king’s brother had come to meet them, but someone else.

It was a hard man who carried a different banner.

„That’s not Renly,“ her king grumbled. „That’s Rendyll Tarly.“

Her King wore a crown of red gold with points fashioned in the shape of flames. Other than that, her king preferred to garb himself in a simple studded leather jerking over a quilted doublet, worn boots, breeches, and brown roughspun. Yet, the most splendid thing he had done was to make the Lord of Light’s banner his own: a sun-yellow banner with a red heart surrounded by a blaze of orange fire.

„Lord Tarly,“ her King greeted the elderly man with cold courtesy. He was clenching his heavy jaw. „I didn’t think my brother would be such a coward.“

If Lord Randyll Tarly was impressed by her King’s mockery for his king, it didn’t show on his lined face. This was not a man to be trifled with.

„Lord Baratheon,“ Lord Randyll Tarly replied coldly. „My King is already marching upon King’s Landing to take the crown from Joffrey Waters. That is why he sent me to make an offer to you…His Grace is willing to welcome you back into his family if you are prepared to accept his Kingship.“

Her king’s face was hard and his dark-blue eyes were filled with unspoken anger.

„You are siding with a traitor, my lord Tarly,“ her King said and gritted his teeth. „By the right of succession, I am the rightful king, the older brother, King Robert’s heir.“

Lord Tarly didn’t seem impressed by her King’s threat.

„I think you forget that I have served many Kings, Lord Baratheon. First, I served Aerys and then I served King Robert. Do you know why? Not because some law of succession told me so, but because my liege lord chose to accept these men as their kings. I am merely doing my duty to my liege lord. This is nothing personal.“

„Petty excuses,“ her King grumbled angrily. „I would have named Renly my heir, but he betrayed me and you are a traitor as well. The gods will punish you.“

It was the first time, Lord Tarly showed a hint of emotion on his hard face.

„And what gods would that be?“ Lord Tarly inquired mockingly as he looked over to Mel. „This heathen god of yours means nothing but trouble and this woman over there is the very reason many favor your brother over you.“

Mel felt no insult reach her heart. Instead, she moved forward, her crimson robes flowing around her like a banner.

„You are a fool, Lord Tarly. Your gods are false and the true enemy will soon come for you all. The Long Night will soon be upon us and then my King will be the only one to save us, for he is Azor Ahai reborn.“

„Azor Ahai?“ Lord Tarly scoffed and shrugged his shoulders. „I have never heard of such a man nor do I care to hear about your mad ramblings, whore.“

Then, he shifted his attention back to her king.

„I do not come with empty hands, for my King is gracious and willing to offer you peace, Lord Baratheon. And as a brother’s gift, he offers you Storm’s End and a seat at his council.“

Her king huffed like a bull that had carried a plow for far too many leagues.

„Storm's End is not his to give. It is mine by rights,“ her king added and pulled on the reins of his horse. „I am not without mercy, Lord Tarly. You are a capable man and much more worth than to serve a coward like my brother. I shall give you a night to rethink our folly.“

With these words, they had left Lord Tarly and for the first time since entering her king’s service, she felt a hint of doubt.

She had watched the flames numerous times. They had told her that Renly would bring his army here. She couldn’t believe that she had misread the flames.

There had to be a reason for his silence and she intended to find out. Thus, she didn’t attend to her King and went to watch her flames.

Her tent was filled with darkness but once she had lightened a candle she felt much calmer.

The golden flames danced around her fingers as she brushed her hand over them. A smile crossed her lips when she felt her Lord’s presence and she picked up the blade from the nearby table.

Carefully, she brought the blade to her arm and cut deep, drawing fresh blood, which she captured in a golden chalice.

Then, she dropped the blood into the flames. Images, and colors dancing before her very eyes.

It were ghostlike appearances, but they much clearer than the ones she had seen weeks ago.

She saw a golden stag slaying a lion. She saw a wolf united with a golden rose. She saw a grey castle filled with krakens. She saw a dragon hiding in the shadows and she saw icy storms lurking in the deep North.

It were ill tidings she brought her king that night.

As expected he had assembled his loyal knights and lords around him. On his left side was the Onion Knight, who eyed Mel with the usual suspicion. His queen was less doubtful but otherwise useless for her Lord’s purpose. Mel had tried to improve her fertility by giving her teas, but nothing had worked. No son would be born from the queen’s womb.

„I hope you bring good tidings, woman,“ Her king said and slammed his hand upon the wooden table, where he had spread his map. „Everything went wrong! I had hoped to take this castle and my brother’s army, but instead, I am facing a man even my brother feared!“

„I wouldn’t say this if there was another chance to win this struggle, your grace,“ The Onion Knight added in a solemnly. „But I think you should consider Lord Tarly’s offer. We have not enough men and if Renly has already ridden for King’s Landing there is not much we can do to stop him. In fact, I think it would be to our…,“ he continued to explain, but her king had silenced him with an angry glare.

„I will never crawl in the dirt before a traitor!“ her King shouted and brushed his hand over the surface of the map. „We still have Sallador Saan’s Fleet. My brother may or may not take the city, but he won’t hold it for long. This, I swear.“

„My King,“ Mel said calmly and drew closer. „I think there might be a way to rid ourselves of Lord Tarly.“

Her King’s shoulders slumped an expression of displeasure showed on his face.

„I know what you want to do, but I do not like it, my lady,“ her king said and clenched his jaw. „Tarly is too good of a man to die for my brother. I have also seen Garlan Tyrell’s personal crest beside Lord Tarly’s banner. It wouldn’t change anything if we killed him. His army would still be commanded by a capable man.“

„Perhaps we should kill Garlan Tyrell?" asked Mel. "To sent a message…to frighten the enemy.“

Her king raised his head, his dark-blue eyes glowing with a strange light.

„Perhaps as a distraction. My Onion Knight spoke true…We cannot win here, but as long as we survive we can take revenge. A wise man knows when to retreat.“

Mel smiled knowingly. Suddenly, the candles were burning especially bright.

It felt as if the Lord of Light approved of her king's decision.

…


	52. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

It took only the blink of a moment before Baelerion’s flames engulfed the goat’s body. Vhagar joined and turned it into a steaming piece of black meat.

Meraxes went about it the bloodiest way. Fast as a snake he buried his sharp fangs in the animal’s neck and tore it apart limbs and bones.

The whole spectacle never failed to make Dany wince, but it was necessary. The dragons needed to eat.

If Ser Barristan shared her discomfort it didn’t show on his face. On the contrary, his blue eyes were filled with awe.

“They are quite fearsome, aren’t they?” Jon asked Ser Barristan.

The knight nodded his head, his eyes still fixed at the dragons occupied with their supper.

“They are fearsome,” the knight confirmed. ”How old are they?”

“More than six moons...I forgot to count the time,” Daenerys replied and pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. It was getting colder. ”It is hard to believe how quickly they continue to grow.”

“And you are training them?” Ser Barristan asked.

“We do our best,” Jon added and smiled at Daenerys. ”They learn fast, but they are not as easily trained like dogs. They are not always obedient.”

“It is truly impressive,” Ser Barristan insisted.”King Aegon the Unlikely dreamed of hatching dragons. And now, after such a long time, his dream came finally true. You have yet to tell me…How did you accomplish it?”

Daenerys swallowed hard and shrugged her shoulders. She doubted he would believe her if she told him the full story.

Even Jon hadn’t been there to witness it.

“I put the dragon eggs into a pyre and they hatched. That was all.”

Ser Barristan’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“Eggs…,” he began and turned to look at Jon. „Where did you acquire dragon eggs?”

“I found them in the crypts of Winterfell,” Jon explained. ”Do you know anything about these eggs?”

“No,” Ser Barristan replied and shook his head. ”The crypts of Winterfell seem a strange place for dragon eggs to be kept. Well, I do not know much about such matters anyway. The same could be said about your father Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.“

Ser Barristan felt were distraught and she felt the sudden urge to comfort him.

She gathered her courage and asked the question that had been lingering on her tongue since Ser Barristan had appeared here.

„You said during our first meeting that I show a great resemblance to my Lady Mother,” Daenerys added softly. ”Is it true or were you just trying to flatter me?”

“Of course not,“ Ser Barristan replied. „You do show a great resemblance to the late Queen Rhaella. I have known her since she was a little girl.”

His answer made her heart swell with happiness.

“My brother Viserys told me that my father loved my mother,” she said, trying to recall her blurry memories. ”He also said that she was kind and beautiful.”

Ser Barristan paled and exchanged a silent look with Jon before giving his answer.

“She was very kind and beautiful. Above all, she loved her sons, but her relationship with the King was rather strained. Theirs was not a marriage of love, but of convenience. It was King Jaehaerys who forced them to wed.”

“Oh,” she said and tried to hide her disappointment. ”Well, Viserys was a child. I am sure my Lady Mother tried to hide her true feelings from him. But what I don’t understand…Why did King Jaehaerys force them into a marriage?“

Ser Barristan exhaled deeply and nodded his head in understanding.

“King Jaehaerys insisted on the marriage because he believed in a prophecy. Prince Duncan, the King’s brother brought a woodswitch to court, who prophesized that a promised prince will be born from his line. For you, it might sound silly, but your brother Prince Rhaegar was also very fond of prophecies.”

The letters her brother Rhaegar had written to her Grand-Uncle made suddenly much more sense.

“Rhaegar spoke about such a promised prince with our Grand-Uncle Aemon. He voiced his doubts that my late nephew, Prince Aegon, is this promised prince.”

“Well, my brother is dead,” Jon said sourly. ”Did my father really believe in this nonsense?”

“Sadly, he did,” Ser Barristan confirmed. ”I have no proof for this, but Ser Arthur once told me that Prince Rhaegar read something that brought about a significant change in his character.”

„What are you trying to say?” Jon asked and crossed his arms in front of him.

“Prince Rhaegar was a very bookish child and he hardly showed any interest in swordplay. At court, they were jesting that Queen Rhaella had swallowed books and candles before she birthed Prince Rhaegar. However, one day he stepped out tot he courtyard and asked Ser Darry to instruct him in swordplay. From this day on, he trained like a madman and became an accomplished rider and fighter. Granted, he was not able to defeat Robert Baratheon, but I doubt even I would have been able to prevail against him. I personally think that for a time Prince Rhaegar believed himself to be this promised prince. At least, that is what Ser Arthur Dayne implied to me once. He and Prince Rhaegar were as close as brothers. If anyone knew Prince Rhaegar’s mind it was Ser Arthur Dayne.”

“But how does my brother Prince Aegon fit into all this?” Jon asked skeptically.

“I am not sure,” Ser Barristan replied. ”As I said before…I also believe that Prince Rhaegar thought he was this promised prince. Later, for whatever reason, he changed his mind and even tasked his Maester to watch the skies for auspicious signs. Prince Aegon was supposedly conceived one the day a falling star could be seen on the nightsky. I didn’t know what to make of this talk, but Prince Rhaegar was delighted to have Prince Aegon. Even King Aerys was pleased and the bells rang all day and all night.”

“Yet, he left my half-siblings and his wife Princess Elia for another woman,” Jon remarked coldly. ”Was it just infatuation or more?”

“I doubt the Prince intended the _leave_ them,” Ser Barristan countered quickly. ”He doted on his children, though I have to admit that his relationship with Princess Elia was rather complicated. He was fond of her, but I never had the impression that theirs was a marriage of passion. Princess Elia’s frail health and Prince Rhaegar’s dislike for his father’s overbearing nature certainly put a strain on their marriage. Princess Rhaenys’ birth brought Prince Rhaegar much joy, but even this brief moment of happiness was dimmed by Princess Elia’s failing health. She had to keep to bed for half a year and she had barely returned to court when King Aerys demanded of her to finally provide a male heir for his dynasty. The following quarrel nearly led to Prince Rhaegar’s execution…,” he trailed off.

Daenerys felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water over her head.

Even Jon looked shocked, his jaw tense like a bowstring.

“What did Rhaegar do that angered our father so much?” Daenerys asked quietly.

Ser Barristan didn’t answer immediately. He simply stared back at her in silence.

“I don’t know if…,” Ser Barristan said hesitatingly, which only increased her urgency for answers.

“Please tell me…I can take it,” Daenerys assured him tensely. Every fiber of her body was tense.

“He told the King to keep out of his private business and the King hurt him in the cruelest way possible…,” Ser Barristan said and stopped for a brief moment. Then, he exhaled deeply, his pale blue eyes still fixed on Daenerys.”The King took the Queen in front of the court and made Prince Rhaegar watch.”

There was nothing that could be said to make this any less disgusting, but then Daenerys should have known better.

Her father was after all called the Mad King.

“And what did my father do?” Jon asked, his voice filled with brewing rage.

“He watched,” Ser Barristan said plainly. ”That was all he could do. The King threatened to take his head if he dared to even make a single noise. You see…King Aerys took great pleasure in torturing his loved ones and Prince Rhaegar was one of his favorite victims. Prince Aegon’s birth was a true miracle, but Princess Elia suffered terribly. I was surprised she even attended the Tourney of Harrenhall given her risky pregnancy, but then she probably wished to disprove the rumors of her supposed barrenness.“

“Maybe Princess Elia’s fragile health is a possible explanation for my brother’s actions,” Daenerys offered and recalled Rhaegar’s words from her vision.

_The dragon has three heads._

Ser Barristan pondered her words for a brief moment.

“Maybe,” he agreed with a heavy sigh. ”Prince Rhaegar and Princess Elia behaved very strangely after the tourney. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Prince Rhaegar had humiliated Princess Elia. Her anger was understandable, but it was not only Princess Elia who started to shun Prince Rhaegar’s presence. Even Ser Arthur Dayne started to distance himself from the Prince.”

“Why is that strange?” Jon asked. ”Ser Arthur Dayne was a Dornishman. Surely, he didn’t approve of my father’s actions.”

“True,” Ser Barristan confirmed. ”But he was Prince Rhaegar’s closest friend and spent most of his youth in King’s Landing. Ser Arthur was formost a man of the Kingsguard, but Ser Arthur’s sister, Lady Ashara Dayne, was very close with Princess Elia, which makes it even more surprising that it was the Princess Elia’s order that led to Lady Ashara’s removal from court. At first, I thought it was the King’s order, given Lady Ashara’s delicate situation, but I heard much later that the cause was a quarrel between Lady Ashara and Princess Elia. These are only rumors, but I feel that something very strange was going on behind the scenes. I doubt we will ever know the full truth, but the situation was more complicated than you can know.”

“Delicate condition,” Jon repeated quietly, his dark eyes wide in realization. ”Was Lady Ashara with child?”

Ser Barristan gave a hesitant nod.

“Who told you?”

“Nobody,” Jon replied and swallowed hard. ”But I heard the servants in Winterfell whisper that Lord Stark and Lady Ashara Dayne were involved.”

“She was with child, but they say that she birthed a stillborn girl,” Ser Barristan replied sadly and averted his gaze. ”But I heard this child was fathered by Brandon Stark and not Eddard Stark. Not that it matters…Lady Ashara Dayne is dead and gone.”

“How did she die?” Daenerys asked.

When he looked back at her, she saw tears shining in his blue eyes.

“She killed herself.”

For the rest of the day, Daenerys didn’t feel like talking. Instead, she dedicated her time to take care of Aemon who was teething and constantly asking for her attention. Jon took him for a while, but then Daenerys told him to take Ser Barristan and the Northmen for a ride through the city.

It was hard to calm down a child and prepare a supper when there were four strangers dwelling in their abode. The fact that Ser Barristan and the Northmen still felt like strangers to her didn’t help.

„You were very weepy today,“ Daenerys chided Aemon who was now occupied with his toys, which mostly included sticking them into his mouth or throwing them through the room. More than once, Ghost had been hit by one of her son’s toys, but the wolf didn’t seem to care. „Are your teeth still hurting you? I could get more of this fine paste from Tito’s mother.“

Her son stared back at her with this confused expression, one hand in his mouth, and the other clutching his wet toy.

In that moment, Jon returned in company of the Northmen and Ser Barristan. Their laughter and babbling made Aemon turn his head.

Daenerys was quick on her feet to bring the cooking pot filled with the stew. She had not much understanding of cooking, but Jon knew even less about it. Well, cooking stew was just about throwing all kinds of things into a pot and cooking it for long hours. It was not that hard and Jon had yet to complain.

Aemon was different. He was not satisfied with stew, but the food being served had the same effect it had on all people.

He wanted to be fed and he made himself known by wailing.

For Daenerys, it was a daily routine by now. She handed the pot to Jon who was serving the food while Daenerys was feeding Aemon.

He was no great eater but suckled greedily. When he was done, she cleaned his face and found Jon and the Northmen were feasting and laughing.

Aemon was soon back at his toys while Daenerys was finally able to eat. Strangely, she didn’t have much appetite nor did she had any interest in joining the laughter.

They mostly spoke about the past and about Winterfell, a place Daenerys only associated with the cold and people who judged her for being raised in a pillow house.

Jon didn’t seem to share the same discomfort. He was laughing and seemed all-around pleased to have Jory and the others there.

Ser Barristan was the only one who didn’t seem interested in joining in. He was quietly eating his stew, his blade always at his side as if he feared an unknown enemy might arrive at the enemy moment.

And perhaps that was a real threat. They had left Braavos behind them, but who could say if there were safe here forever?

Daenerys quickly brushed these thoughts away and started to collect the dishes before bringing some more fermented milk.

The Northmen frowned at the drink but didn’t complain.

„There is more we haven’t told you, Jon,“ Jory announced at last. „When we were in Braavos we met a strange fellow. He called himself Tormo Fregar and he too wanted us to find Princess Daenerys.“

Daenerys recalled this name, but she had forgotten in what context.

„Who is this Tormo Fregar?“ she asked quickly.

„A man who aspires to become the next Sealord of Braavos,“ Harwin explained. „And a man who clearly wishes to start a war with Volantis. And to accomplishes this goal he needs you, Princess Daenerys.“

Daenerys was taken back by his words.

„Me? What could I do to help him?“

„He wishes to abolish slavery,“ Jory added with equal confusion. „And that is all somehow connected to a person who calls himself Azor Ahai and these Red Priests. To be honest, I am still having a hard time making sense of it all.“

„Me either,“ Harwin added and yawned happily. „But you forgot to mention the most important part of the story, Jory.“

„Ah yes,“ Jory said and waved his hand at Daenerys. „I forgot about that. Well, this Tormo Fregar also told us to inform you that he would be prepared to support you in claiming the crown, though I am not sure how trustworthy he is.“

Daenerys was skeptical, but she could see the change in Jon’s expression. It looked as if he was pleased.

Sadly, Daenerys couldn’t bring herself to share his feelings on that matter.

„Probably as trustworthy as this Lord Varys,“ Daenerys concluded and attended to the dishes while the Northmen retired. Jon helped her and Ser Barristan watched Aemon who had decided that it was particularly funny to throw his toys at this old knight, who seemed utterly delighted by her son’s behavior.

Soon, Ser Barristan was laughing and Aemon was gurgling happily.

But Daenerys would be happier of Aemon slept and thus she picked him up and brought him to bed.

Upon her return, Jon and Ser Barristan were seated together and sharing another cup of fermented milk.

Ghost had also decided to join them now that Aemon had stopped throwing his toys around.

„The Iron Bank is not an enemy I wish upon the worst kind of person…,“ Ser Barristan was about to say but fell silent when he noticed Daenerys‘ presence.

Daenerys forced a smile over her lips. She didn’t care about this Tormo Fregar, but she didn’t want to be left out.

„You don’t have to whisper in the corner. I do not mind if you speak your mind.“

Jon nodded his head in embarrassment. „I am sorry. I didn’t intend to keep you out of this, but you looked so depressed all day and after Jory brought up Tormo Fregar it only got worse.“

„Keep me out of what?“ Daenerys asked and sat down on the carpet. „Are you really taking this man seriously? He sounds like a madman to me. I also don’t like being used as some sort of political tool, though I would wholeheartedly approve of his decision to fight slavery.“

„I am not saying we should agree to his terms,“ Jon replied carefully and sought her gaze. „But we could at least consider meeting with him.“

„And go back to Braavos,“ Daenerys concluded. „What of the people here? What if the Dothraki come back to take revenge? Who will protect them?“

Jon lowered his gaze to the ground. „We don’t have to do it now. When he dragons are a bit older perhaps? By then, we will surely know more...“ he was about to continue, but Daenerys cut him off.

„Let’s assume all of it plays out as you hope. What then? Do you think anyone wants a courtesan and a former bastard on the throne? I think not.“

Jon’s nodded his head. He seemed angry but hid his emotions well behind that blank mask that was his face.

„But it is the only way to go home.“

„Your home,“ Daenerys replied and rose to her feet. „Not mine.“

…


	53. Catelyn

**Catelyn**

Cat felt no happiness when she rode through the gates of King’s Landing. This city had never been particularly beautiful to behold, but now it looked as if a nightmare had taken place here.

The streets were still littered with corpses, the smell of death and rot filling her nostrils. Quickly, she pulled down the hood of her cloak as she continued to ride behind Queen Margaery’s entourage that consisted of her personal guard led by no other than Lady Brienne of Tarth and a horde of ladies, most of them kin to the Tyrells and Hightowers.

Cat was riding among her own but felt like a stranger among these golden roses and stags.

She had come here to forge an allegiance, but ever since she had found King Renly in Bitterbridge, she felt more like a prisoner than a guest.

Queen Margaery made for a fine companion, though.

Throughout her youth, she had never eaten better than among the Tyrells. Every day, the young Queen had held court and had prayed for victory while Renly had been conducting the siege.

A very short siege, that had only lasted for three days until an unknown enemy had opened the gates.

The citizens of King’s Landing had erupted in rebellion after the Tyrell men had bombarded the city with bread and plenty of coin, promising them a better fate beneath the banner of a new King.

Cat had been beside Queen Margaery when Ser Loras Tyrell had come before them to announce the victory.

A chill took hold of Cat when she glimpsed at the bloody comet streaking the sky. The herald of King Renly’s reign, Ser Loras had told her, but Cat had only felt discomfort.

Instead, she had broken her fast in company of Queen Margaery who had assured her that she would speak with her husband once more about the matter of Jon Snow and his Targaryen Princess.

Cat had drowned a cup of wine, realizing that she was trying to save Jon Snow’s life.

The thought would have angered her in the past, but now she felt weary and fearful for Robb, of whom she hadn’t heard anything in weeks.

All she wanted to do was to go home to her children and forget about this war, but when she lifted her head once more, she found the Maid of Tarth riding beside her.

The lady made an even unhappier expression than Arya whenever she was told to attend to her needlework. It seemed as if she was not at all pleased to be here and guard the queen.

Cat believed to know why. The lady of Tarth was burning with love for their new King.

Well, not the only King. There was also Stannis Baratheon, who she believed wouldn’t so easily give up his crown.

„You are so glum, my lady,“ Brienne of Tarth said with a frown. „Is something amiss?“

Cat looked again at the houses and the corpses on the street. Crows could be seen flying over the city, seeking for their next meal.

She wished she could just leave, but she knew where she had to go.

The Red Keep was waiting for her and with it their new King.

„I am happy for your King’s victory,“ she replied politely. „But I worry about my son.“

Lady Brienne’s face softened. „Then, I hope he survives so you, my lady, and my King can forge an ever-lasting peace.“

Cat nodded her head and remained silent for the rest of the ride up to Aegon’s Hill.

The Red Keep was filled with wounded men and banners of golden roses alike.

She felt like in a hive, a chaos of voices giving her a terrible headache as she was led to her assigned chambers in the Maidenvault.

Cat was promptly provided with freshwater and a lady to help her dress into fresh robes Queen Margaery had sent to her.

Then, she washed and rested for an hour when one of Queen Margaery’s girls came to wake her.

It was late in the evening, the sky a banner of violet silk and glimmering stars when she was led into Queen Margaery’s chamber.

It was not the queen’s chamber, but then Cat was not surprised that she preferred to remain here in the Maidenvault.

The tale of Cersei Lannister’s death had filled Cat and the Queen’s entire entourage with disgust.

King Joffrey had perished by the hand of an unknown Tyrell man, but Queen Cersei and the rest of her court had been found butchered by the hand of the King’s Executioner, Ser Ilyn Payne, who had also perished during the sack of the Red Keep.

Tywin Lannister had also perished in battle, his body turned into a needle cushion and his legacy crushed to pieces.

Cat felt no pity for him, but that didn’t make her feel any safer among these strangers with only two sworn swords to call her own.

As for Prince Tommen, only rumors were known to her, namely that he had been taken away in secret.

Only his sister remained. The Princess Myrcella who was residing in Dorne and was betrothed to Prince Trystane Martell, though Cat doubted that would last for long.

The Dornish might be more tolerant of bastards, but surely Prince Doran Martell wouldn’t agree to wed his son to a bastard born from incest?

The only reason he would do such a thing would be to take power himself, but then Prince Doran Martell had even less reason to love the Lannisters than King Renly.

No, she hoped that Dorne will be prepared to make peace with King Renly.

She had enough of wars and only wished to go home to her children.

„Welcome, Lady Stark,“ Queen Margaery greeted her with a bright smile. Her dress was even more splendid to look upon, a dream of several layers of silk and a golden cloak half-covering her naked shoulders. Her hair was open and a thin circlet of gold with roses rested upon her brow. „Have you been treated kindly?“

„Very,“ Cat replied and eyed the abundance of small cakes laid out before her on the table. There was tea, fruits, and sugar from the Free Cities, a rare treat. „And you are also very kind to receive me so quickly. I have also heard you were visiting the smallfolk?“

Margery Tyrell smiled warmly. „We have been distributing bread to the commoners. They are all starved-out after the siege. I suppose a full stomach makes it easier to forget one’s hardships.“

„Indeed,“ Cat replied and lifted the cup. She took a quick sip and picked up a piece of cake. It was sweet and soft on the tongue, but then it had been a long time ago since she had last enjoyed something this fine. „But it will not be easy for your husband. He had taken King’s Landing and has the Reach and the Stormlands behind him, but that doesn’t mean the rest of the realm will follow. Lord Tywin might be dead, but the Lords of the Westerlands will not be easily bent, Dorne couldn’t even be defeated by Aegon the Conqueror and at last, there is Stannis Baratheon to be considered. I admit I do not know him well, but he doesn’t seem the kind of person to be easily vanquished.“

„He is certainly not,“ a familiar voice added and made Catelyn turn her head towards the door. „My brother Stannis is a most stubborn man.“

It was King Renly, garbed in green-and-golden finery, a silken cloak fluttering around his shoulders and a golden crown resting atop his raven hair. Looking at him it was hard not to see Robert Baratheon, a man Ned had loved and Catelyn had shown respect as her King.

Renly seemed more like a boy than a King to her, but then that might only be their age difference. He certainly made a splendid-looking King, but that didn’t mean he would be a good and wise King.

„You are a difficult man yourself, your grace,“ Catelyn replied and watched how the young King sat down in the cushioned seat beside his wife. She wondered how long he had been listening to their conversation. „You dared something not many younger sons would do.“

If Renly was insulted by her reply it didn’t show on her face.

He smiled instead and poured himself a cup of wine.

When he had taken a sip, he sighed in contentment and leaned back in his chair, his dark-blue eyes watching Catelyn as if she was some odd creature.

„Why not call me a usurper, Lady Stark?“ he asked in obvious amusement. „Isn’t that the name you would give me if my brother were here?“

Cat felt a chill creeping down her spine but hid her fears behind a smile.

„I do not understand anything about these matters,“ she feigned ignorance. „But my son thought you worthy enough to support you and is currently fighting…,“ he began, but Renly cut her off.

„Your son is longer fighting, but has won, my Lady Stark,“ King Renly informed her without much fanfare and slipped his hand into the pocket of his cloak to pull forth a small roll of parchment, which he put on the table for Cat to take. „He defeated the Kingslayer in battle, slew the Mountain, and took him, hostage, again. As for my brother…Tarly wrote to me that he fled back to Dragonstone.“

„Robb has won,“ Catelyn repeated in relief and picked up the roll of parchment. Her first instinct was to read it right there, but then she decided otherwise and searched King Renly’s face. „I thank you for telling me, your grace.“

„I am always glad to serve,“ King Renly replied, his dark blue eyes darting back to Margaery Tyrell. Suddenly, all amusement was gone from his youthful face and a more solemn expression took hold of it. He looked almost like a King. „But I also have need of your help, Lady Stark. I want you to pen a letter to your son to invite him here to my coronation. There is much we need to speak about.“

Cat was not surprised that King Renly wanted to speak with her son, but she had hoped to leave King’s Landing as soon as possible to return to her children.

„You have my agreement, your grace,“ Cat replied politely and tried her best to hide her apprehension. „I shall write to my son at once if it pleases you, but I think you should at least give some indication of your intentions or it will be hard to convince my son to come here.“

„My intentions are plain and simple, Lady Stark,“ King Renly replied and took another sip from his cup. „I wish for your son to become my friend and to accomplish this goal I offer a marriage allegiance between one of your daughters and my brother-in-law, Lord Willas Tyrell, who is in dire need of an heir and a fine lady to warm his heart.“

„My brother is a good man,“ Queen Margaery added softly. „Well-learned, soft of heart, my Lord Father’s right hand and not quite handsome at that. Sadly, he suffered an accident when he was still a young knight, and ever since he needs a stick to walk properly.“

Cat couldn’t imagine Arya with such a man, no matter how good-hearted and well-learned he was. Sansa was different and also the older sister. Truly, it was not hard to decide who would be a proper bride for Lord Willas Tyrell.

„My daughter Sansa is soft of heart and loves courtly life more than my younger daughter Arya, who would be more suitable for Lord Willas.“

Queen Margaery seemed pleased. „I shall also write to my brother, to inform him about the good tidings.“

„Do that, my sweet,“ King Renly added kindly, but with a certain amount of formality as he patted his Queen’s arm. „But now we ought to retreat to take supper. There is much you need to hear.“

Perhaps it had only been her imagination, but King Renly’s had sounded strangely sad as he had said this.

On the next day she found out the truth: Queen Margaery’s brother had supposedly been slain by an assassin and among this chaos Stannis Baratheon had attacked Lord Tarly’s camp, butchering thousands of his men before fleeing back to Dragonstone.

…


	54. Jon

**Jon**

It took all his concentration to meet Ser Barristan’s blows. Up and down, left and right the blades met, bringing forth a clinking sound. Ser Barristan could be his grandfather, but his blows were powerful and left Jon’s arm aching.

Ser Barristan was also incredibly fast. Again, the blades kissed and parted. Jon gritted his teeth and stepped backward to gather strength for his next blow.

This time he aimed at Ser Barristan’s left side.

It was his weaker arm.

 _An old war wound_ , Jon guessed and brought down his blade. He didn’t know how, but the elderly knight seemed to anticipate his action and parried the blow easily.

Jon considered himself a good swordsman, but the mock battle made him aware of how much he had yet to learn.

“I think that is enough,” Ser Barristan said and smiled warmly. ”I think I am in dire need of a break.”

Jon exhaled deeply and lowered his blade. Ser Barristan’s brow was covered in sweat and his breathing a little labored, but he looked otherwise unaffected.

“I am the one that is sweating like a pig,” Jon replied and sheathed his blade. ”And you are quick like a cat. How did you know that I would aim at the left side?”

“Your footwork,” Ser Barristan replied and sheathed his own blade. ”And your movements. You put too much strength in them. Fight calmer and your enemy won’t be able to anticipate your next step.”

Jon couldn’t help but frown. He was sure that Ser Barristan meant well, but he had expected to perform better.

“Don’t fret, my Prince,” Ser Barristan assured him with amusement. ” Your swordplay just needs some refinement. Whoever thought you did well. Besides, you are still young. I was no Arthur Dayne at your age either. I have years of practice and I have seen hundreds of battles.”

“I have seen only one proper battle,” Jon answered and brushed his sweaty hair out of his face.

He looked over to Daenerys.

She was seated next to Larsha and had watched them while preparing arrows for their next hunt.

Jory and the others had also joined them in their practice and were currently resting beneath the shadow of one of the trees lining the courtyard.

“Knowing our luck these won’t be the last battle,” Daenerys remarked with a tense smile. ”But I agree with Ser Barristan. You are still in training.“

Her encouragement helped to ease his disappointment a little, but he had also noticed that Daenerys grew tense whenever she was around Jory and the others.

 _Something is amiss_ , he knew and his gaze fell on Aemon seated at Daenerys‘ feet. He was trying to crawl through the grass and took great pleasure in pulling out flowers along the way. The gurgling sound of his laughter filled Jon with warmth. _I must talk with her._

“Jon,” Daenerys called out to him and held out his cloak. He picked it from her hands and pulled the garment over his shoulders. ”Where is your mind?“

„It was gone and now it is back,“ Jon jested to overplay his embarrassment. „We should hurry. The dragons are waiting for us.“

Daenerys nodded her head and shifted her attention to Larsha.

„Would you take Aemon home?“ she asked Tito’s sister. „The dragons need to be fed.“

“Sure,” Larsha replied.”Aemon is in good hands.”

The sun was already disappearing behind the hills when they arrived at the dragons’ lair.

The sky above was painted in a soft pink color. It promised a cold night.

Daenerys called out to the dragons and it didn’t take long before they made their presence known.

Even from afar, Jon could feel Meraxes’s hot breath. It was the smell of burned flesh that accompanied them at every step.

The sheep started to cry out in fear when they noticed Meraxes’s presence, but that was no surprise.

Meraxes was the most bloodthirsty of the dragons. Even Jon feared him at times.

Next came Baelerion. His dark wings blocked out the sunlight as he descended upon the scorched plain below the hill.

His red and black scales pulled out roots as he landed on the ground. The whirled up dust made Jon’s eyes water, but the sheep had it worse. They went mad.

The shrieking of the sheep grew only louder and louder. Jon felt almost like an executioner.

At last, Vhagar came to join them. He didn’t roar nor did he throw flames in the air like his two brothers.

He landed in the quietest way possible and turned around to look at Jon.

“Jon…it is time,” Daenerys reminded him.

“Of course,” Jon replied and freed the sheep. The animals fled in fear, but their feet were nothing compared to the dragons’ wings.

Meraxes roared and hunted one of them below the hill before he snapped from the sky and caught the animals with his sharp fangs.

The sheep were barely able to squeak before it was dismembered.

Balerion was less cruel and gave his meal a quick death. Exposed to the flames there was soon nothing more left, but blackened meat and bones.

Vhagar killed his sheep with a quick bite to the neck and was now disemboweling his supper with great eagerness.

And while the dragons continued to gorge on their supper Daenerys and Jon sat down beneath the shade of a tree.

Neither one had spoken so far.

Daenerys was watching the dragons and Jon was watching Daenerys.

She wore her dirty dress and her hair was unbound. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat and even when she frowned she was lovely to look upon.

Jon exhaled deeply and made an attempt to strike up a conversation.

„You dislike them, don’t you?“

Daenerys turned her head to look at him.

„Them?“

„Jory, Alyn, and Harwin,“ Jon explained further. „You grow tense whenever you are around them. Are you afraid of them?“

„No,“ Daenerys replied defensively. „But they are strangers to me. I do not like them here. They remind me of the North, a place I didn’t particularly like.“

Jon understood why, but he couldn’t help but to long for home at times. The Northmen’s presence made it all the harder.

„You don’t mind Ser Barristan, don’t you?“ Jon asked in return.

She frowned but answered his question.

„Ser Barristan does not view me as a lesser person.“

„He served the man who wanted to kill you,“ Jon countered.

„We are talking in circles,“ Daenerys replied her violet eyes brimming with anger. „What are you trying to say?“

„I am just trying to understand you,“ Jon replied in obvious frustration. „You are so uptight about everything since they came and spoke about the Sealord.“

Daenerys blew her hair out of her face and shrugged her shoulders.

„Because I do not trust this man,“ Daenerys replied. „Not to mention, I do not care about the Iron Throne or Westeros. It’s not my home.“

„I understand that,“ Jon replied. „But you heard what Jory told us. King Robert wanted to send assassins after us. Think about it…We have three dragons and they are growing bigger by every passing day. Do you think we can hide here forever? It is only a matter of time until the Lannisters or Baratheons or whoever seizes the crown will hear about our whereabouts.“

The expression on Daenerys‘ face darkened further.

„So what do you want to do?“ Daenerys asked. „Do what Aegon did and re-conquer the Seven Kingdoms with our baby dragons? We don’t even have our own army...only this Sealord, a man I do not trust.“

„Robb is the Lord of the North,“ Jon was about to explain, but Daenerys‘ cut him off.

„I don’t want to go begging to your brother,“ Daenerys replied. „A person who probably thinks of me as a lowly whore.“

„You are nothing like that,“ Jon assured her, but Daenerys shook her head in disbelief. „And Robb is my brother and a good man. He will understand.“

„He bought me for you,“ Daenerys replied hotly and rose to her feet. She looked as if she wanted to run away. „And you think he is going to make me a Queen?“

„Robb didn’t know any better,“ Jon defended his brother, though Daenerys did have a point. He touched her shoulder to calm her, but she brushed his hand away. „And I didn’t know it either. We all make mistakes.“

„Do not defend him,“ Daenerys replied angrily. „And I forgave you because you asked for it. Your brother could have done the same.“

„You are being stubborn,“ Jon said with growing frustration.

She shook her head. „And you are willing to abandon these people just to go begging to your brother.“

To his embarrassment, Jon had forgotten about the Lhazareen.

„I never said we have to leave now,“ Jon replied and tried to overplay his true thoughts. „But you cannot ignore the topic at hand. Jory and the others cannot stay here forever.“

Daenerys nodded her head in understanding.

„Good, I will be glad when they are gone and leave us at peace.“

It was the anxious shrieking of the dragons that interrupted their conversation.

“I think someone is coming,” Jon remarked and turned his head.

He relaxed when he realized that it was Tito.

“Jon,” Tito greeted him and climbed from his horse. His hair was windswept and his bearing tense. ”I bring bad tidings. It seems the Dothraki horde has returned.”

...


	55. Ned

**Ned**

“We should return,” the leader of their group said and narrowed his dark eyes.

Ned nodded his head, his frozen face hidden behind the thick shawl wrapped around his neck. Ned was born and bred in the North, but this wind was much colder than anticipated. Even though, the sky was wide and blue, he felt cold, trembling under his pelt like a newborn babe.

He longed for a warm fire and threw a glance over his shoulders, where the Fist of the First men rose like a blue fist. There on the top and protected by a ringwall of stones was the camp of the Night’s Watch.

Ned understood why. The hill offered a commanding view over the landscape and offered protection against their invisible enemy, the Wildlings.

They had found traces of them here and there, but so far the Wildlings were able to hide their presence.

“It is getting cold,” another man added and rubbed his shoulders. ”We should leave now or we won’t be able to get back before nightfall.”

“And the Lord Commander will want to hear of our findings.”

“What findings?” the other man named Bowen Marsh asked and scoffed. “A few lone animals and not even the slightest hint of the Wildling scum.”

Ned didn’t know why, but something about the man rubbed him the wrong way.

All he could do was complain.

Ned also longed to find his brother or at least avenge him, but the Wildlings fleeing south were not only men keen on murder and pillage. More than once he had heard of half-starved women, children and babes.

Even Ned, who had been raised to see them as the enemy, had a hard time hating babes and womenfolk.

 _I am now a man of the Night’s Watch_ , Ned reminded himself again. _A swore a vow to guard the realms of men...against women and children and babes._

“I am sure we will find them soon enough, Marsh,” their leader, an old man named Gerold, replied and picked his nose. ”Stark is right. No findings are also findings. Let’s go back to warm ourselves and on the morrow, we will set out anew.”

“As you say, brother,” Marsh scoffed and wheeled his horse around. Ever slowly, they made their way through the waist-high snow, the sky above them tinged with the colours of twilight.

The only sound was the whistling of the wind and the croaking of a flock of crows flying circles above the trees.

It was not the first time that Ned noticed their presence. They had been following them all day.

 _Nonsense_ , Ned chided himself and followed after the others back into the dark forest looming ahead.

Suddenly, Marsh stopped his horse in an abrupt manner and cast his gaze at the distant row of trees lining the snow-swept path.

“Did you hear that, Stark?” Marsh inquired and grinned, showing his yellow teeth. ”It seems the Wildling scum is coming for us.”

Ned didn’t share his joy and smoothed his hand over the pommel of his sword. It gave him the assurance he needed.

“Are you sure?” Gerold asked and wrinkled his brows. ”Where?”

Marsh grinned and unsheathed his blade, before pointing at the row of trees.

Garth sighed deeply, climbed from his horse and slipped his sword out of its scabbard.

The snow was too high to get there on a horse.

Unwillingly, Ned followed after them, stamping through the snow.

Again he heard the croaking of the crows, louder than before. It felt as if they were trying to warn them.

Ned didn’t know how it had happened, but the world around him felt suddenly even colder. Suddenly, a gust of cold wind was washing over them and whirled up snow, leaves and cloaks.

Ned shuddered, but not from the cold.

_Something was amiss._

“You are slowing us down, Stark,” Marsh grumbled impatiently and Ned followed suit, without commenting on the man’s rude words. It was too cold to open one’s mouth unnecessarily.

“We should make a fire,” suggested one of the younger man, but something or someone moving in the underwood aroused their attention. At first, it was only a shadow, but the shrill cry unleashed by this animal or human being made Ned’s blood freeze.

He stumbled backwards and only then he realized it was a human being. Quickly, he swung his blade and took off the person’s head. His heart was beating rapidly when he took in the cut-off head lying in the snow.

“Gods!” Gerold mumbled and froze in his tracks. ”Have you ever seen such eyes?”

Ned shook his head in disbelief.

The man’s eyes were blue as frost, like two twin stars. Even man’s body was still moving until Marsh buried his blade deep and started to hack the flesh apart.

“See,” Marsh declared proudly. ”Nothing to be afraid of…”

Then they heard it again. There, off in the distance, he spotted more of these shadows, moving through the snow. Pairs of blue eyes stared back at them through the darkness.

“Fuck!” Gerold cursed, but it was already too late. The creatures stormed at them with incredible speed.

Ned buried his blade in the first enemy, but this time he missed the head and the girl’s sharp fingernails grabbed his arm, pulling hard.

He stumbled backwards, gathered his strength and aimed for the head. His blow was too weak and his blade was stuck half-way through. Ned kicked the girl away and freed his blade to prepare for the next blow. This time he was able to take off the girls head completely and she collapsed like a puppet without strings.

Two more of these creatures he had to fight off before he was able to look around only to find his companions half-dead or in peril.

Gerold’s shrieks could be heard from afar and Marsh’ was fighting off two creatures at once. Ned moved quickly and buried his blade deep. Wrenching the blade free he split the young man’s head in two.

It was a grim sight and the smell was even worse, but Ned had other sorrows. He moved quickly and helped Gerold to fight off his enemies.

Marsh killed the last one, taking its head with several savage blows to the neck.

“This was the last one!” he declared, lacking the usual pride. He trembled and looked afraid. “This has to be the last one…,” he continued, but fell silent when something sharp and glimmering pierced his back.

Ned had never before laid eyes on such an otherworldly creature. It was a tall man with flesh as pale as snow, his blue eyes bright and dangerous to behold.

Quickly, the creature freed its strange blade. It was pale like milk glass, but Ned didn’t doubt its sharp edge.

Gerold lifted his blade, but the creature cut through him like a sword moving through a cake.

Ned’s blood froze as the creature started to move towards him.

He lifted his sword and trembled like a young tree bared to the cold.

“Come,” Ned stuttered. ”Come and fight me.”

The creature didn’t answer. It moved as quickly as lighting and snapped his blade at him like a whip.

Ned only heard the clinking of steel and stepped backwards, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He was barely able to register the creature’s next movement and lifted his blade to meet the next blow.

Again, the blades touched, bringing forth a blood-curdling sound.

Ned stumbled backwards, his face kissed by the flakes of snow. Back on his feet, he noticed the pain in his lower body.

He didn’t know how it had happened, but his blade shattered and the small shards stuck in his flesh, hot blood drenching the snow beneath his feet.

Ned tried to move, but the pain in his lower body made it harder than anticipated.

Yet, it was already too late.

The creature, whatever it was, loomed over him, its blade raised for an attack.

Ned closed his eyes and waited for the death blow that never came.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the creature surrounded by hundreds of crows. Where they had come from was a mystery to him, but he made use of the moment to pull himself to his feet.

With gritted teeth, he stumbled through the snow, back to his horse.

He didn’t make it further than a handful of steps.

“Brother!” a distant, rasping voice pierced the silence. ”Brother!”

Ned didn’t believe his eyes when he found this strange man clad in a black cloak calling out to him. That he was seated on an elk made him doubt his sanity.

 _I am going mad_ , Ned thought and rose to his feet. Spurred on by his desperation he was able to bridge the distance and grabbed for the man’s gloved hand. _I am going mad._

_..._


	56. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

A chilly morning greeted them as they passed the rolling hills of Lhazar. The grass was wet and muddy, the sky above covered in dreary clouds. The sun was nothing more than a distant blur of light trying to pass through the thick clouds.

Now and then the light was dimmed by the dragons circling above their heads.

Their sight never failed to comfort her, but the events of the last week filled her with anxiety. The common practice of the Lhazareen would have dictated to they call for an assembly, but this attack had been different.

This attack had come all of a sudden and several towns near Kosrak had been attacked and put to the flames.

Jon had not hesitated to ride out to find out about the enemy’s whereabouts and had taken with him his Northmen and Tito, who had insisted on accompanying him.

In turn, Jon had left Ser Barristan with Daenerys.

Thus, a whole week had passed and Jon and the others had still not returned.

This time, Chief Mallor had gathered three-thousand mounted men and Daenerys had decided to join them with her dragons and Ser Barristan, both to find the Dothraki and to find Jon and the others.

Daenerys had faced the Dothraki only once, but this confrontation had been enough to know that they were not pleasant people.

 _We have dragons_ , she reminded herself, and angled her head to look at Ser Barristan.

Before them, stretched a hilly landscape of pastures, but far off in the distance, she spotted small forests, a glimmering river, and the pale violet outlines of the Bone Mountains.

They had ridden for hours, but they have yet to find the villages in question.

“Are you sure it is here?” Hibal asked the carrier that had brought them tidings of another destroyed village. He was a small, stocky man with peppered hair. His face was littered with scars and his dark eyes narrowed against the sunlight bursting through the clouds. „I can’t see anyone?“

Daenerys tried to see what he was seeing, but it proved impossible for her. She saw nothing, but the blurry lines of the horizon.

No wonder they called him Hawk’s eye.

“You must be blind, boy,” the man grumbled and pointed at the sky. ”Can’t you see the smoke?”

Daenerys tried again and saw nothing. Ser Barristan seemed to share her feelings and shrugged his shoulders. Only Hibal seemed to finally see the invisible smoke.

“Finally,” Hibal said and brushed his hand over the tip of his spear. ”We found their trace.”

“We should ride through the woods…to shadow our approach, though I doubt the horde is still here. They probably moved along the road passing Kosrak. It is the only passable street broad enough for carts and baggage trains,“ Hibal added.

“We will do as Hibal suggested.,” Chief Mallor said. ”We shouldn’t act hastily. Let’s move on.”

The woods were dark and chilly. High pine trees loomed over them and threw wide shadows behind them. The cold breeze coming from the mountains made her shiver beneath her wool cloak trimmed with white hare pelt.

“Are you cold, Princess?” Ser Barristan asked. He decided to ride behind her, Larsha, and the other women to keep an eye on them. She knew he meant well, but it made her feel like a child. This was the first time she was riding to battle and she wanted to prove that she was one of them.

And yet, she couldn’t help but smile anxiously at the elderly knight. She never had a grandfather, but Ser Barristan was the kind of person every child wished for. His presence gave her some odd sort of comfort in Jon’s absence.

“I am fine,” Daenerys assured him. ”Have you ever encountered Dothraki, good Sir?”

Ser Barristan shook his head, his white hair fluttering around his weather-worn face like feathers.

“I have not, but I heard enough of them to know that they are not to be underestimated.”

“We have the dragons,” Daenerys assured him and he nodded his head in agreement, though she noticed an expression of doubt washing over his face.

“We have dragons,” Ser Barristan confirmed quietly and followed after her.

The sun stood high on the sky when they finally left the dark woods behind them and found the muddy trail Hibal had been searching for.

The road was not particularly broad, but good enough to move along it with mounted men. Next came, a rugged landscape of yellow grass and foliage. It looked as if someone decided to paint the entire landscape yellow instead of the green pasture so common to Lhazar.

Soon the landscape gave away to dry hills and dusty valleys. Occasionally she spotted a fig tree or sheep grazing on the dry hills. They looked lost and several of them bled heavily.

The smell lured Meraxes from the sky. Quick like a snake, he snapped the animal from the ground. It didn’t take long before Vhagar started to quarrel with his brother. They had supper before their departure, but it seemed they were hungry for more.

It took a lot of shouting on her side before the dragons stopped their childish behavior and they were able to move on.

“There!” Larsha exclaimed as she reached the top of a high ridge overseeing a narrow valley. ”Smoke!”

Daenerys’ heart sped up when she heard this and led her horse up the hill to join Larsha’s side. Black plumes of smoke rose from the ruins of a town. Even the fields and the animals were unable to escape the slaughter that befell the town.

It was a grizzly sight, but she tried to hide her shock. 

_I am the blood of the dragon._

“I think the flames have been burning for a long time,” Hibal said to the other men and narrowed his eyes against the bright sunlight. ”When do you think did the attack occur?”

“Yesterday,” Hawk’s eye replied. ”They probably attacked yesterday."

Then, he craned his neck and pointed at the churned up earth, leading away from the ruins of the village.

“They moved west towards Kosrak,” he said and frowned.”But this was a smaller horde than the last time…maybe two-thousand mounted men and no carts.”

“They probably split from the main horde to come here,” Chief Mallor suggested.

Hibal nodded his head in agreement.

“Could be…that would also explain why they were able to attack this quickly.”

Chief Mallor frowned and pulled on the reins of his horse, slowly leading it down the hill.

Daenerys and Larsha followed suit, Ser Barristan close at her heels.

The elderly knight frowned as well, his hand smoothing over the hilt of his sword.

Daenerys herself felt the anticipation rising inside her as they drew closer and closer towards the destroyed.

More and more, dead sheep began littering their path. Most of them, died from arrow wounds, though some of them looked as if someone cut their throats with a blade. Soon, they also found the first human corpses.

Daenerys had seen dead corpses before, but this was different. Most of them were cut down like pigs for slaughter. Among them were children, women, and elderly people, who presumably guarded the sheep herds. She also noticed Dothraki among the dead littering the outskirts of the town, but they were like a single drop of water in a wide desert.

 _I am the blood of the dragon_ , she whispered to herself. _I am the blood of the dragon._

Behind her back, she heard Larsha‘s cursing. The other women appeared equally tense, their dark eyes glinting with restrained anger. Even the dragons seemed affected, their loud roars echoing over the ruins of the town.

 _They can smell the blood_ , she knew and averted her gaze when she spotted the body of a dead woman. She couldn’t be much older than Daenerys herself. An arrow stuck in her head and her clothing was tattered. Numerous cuts littered her naked skin and breasts.

Yet, that was only the beginning. The worst came when they passed through the destroyed gates. There was hardly anything left from the city walls, but a carcass of blackened wood. Only a few stone houses were left, black and devoid of life.

The sheer amount of blackened corpses on the ground made it almost impossible to move forward. Daenerys clung to her horse and was torn between looking away and facing the horror.

There were so many of them that Daenerys soon stopped to count. She wasn’t even able to say whether they were female or male. The heat shrank the bodies to small black figurines not bigger than children.

She was used to the smell of burned flesh, but this was different. These corpses had been lying here for a long time. Most of them were covered in maggots and other animals known to feast on human flesh.

The sweet and rotten smell forced her to cover her mouth with her cloak, least she vomited out her last meal.

They had nearly crossed the town they came across the ruins of a temple. Almost every Lharzareen town had such a building dedicated to the Great Shepard, though there was nothing left of the statue, but a heap of ash. Only the walls of the temple were left, black and papered with dead corpses, pierced by pikes. Among them were elderly men, children, babes, and women of all ages. Their faces were pale, blue, and grey. Some had no eyes or breasts, some lacked fingers, and others even their heads.

It felt as if they were thrown into a nightmare.

Shaking violently, she stumbled from her horse and emptied her stomach on the ground. Her body was wracked by spasms as she tried to block out the terrible smell.

“Dany!” Larsha called out to her and smoothed her hand over Daenerys’ back. Ser Barristan followed suit and stumbled from his horse to join her side.

“Breathe… Breath!” he encouraged her.

Daenerys tried, but it felt as if her throat was in knots.

She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. It felt as if an eternity had passed when she opened them again.

Larsha was holding her and Ser Barristan was grouching before her, his face awash with concern.

“Better?” Ser Barristan asked gently.

She nodded her head.

“I think I can finally breathe again…,” she assured him and pulled herself to her feet.

“Ser Barristan…,” Daenerys addressed the elderly knight, her grip tight on his arm. ”I think it is best if you go back to the woods. We have been riding all day…we will soon make camp. We will take care of this.”

Daenerys knew what needed to be done, no matter how gruesome the task would be.

_Burn the dead._

“The dragons will be of help,” Daenerys told him and trembled both with fear and disgust. Could Jon and the others have died among them? No, she didn’t even want to think of it. “And I am well.”

“You look like a ghost,” Ser Barristan told her in a tone that left no room for further discussions. “A bit of fresh air and you will feel much better, Princess. Then, you can go back to work. First, let them gather the corpses, then you can burn them."

“I agree with an old warrior,” Larsha added.”Allow me to escort you.”

“Very well,” Daenerys agreed shakily and swallowed hard. ”I will do as you say.”

As promised, Larsha led her away from the town and Ser Barristan followed suit. She didn’t want to admit it, but the fresh air helped.

It also didn’t take too long before she was helping to set up camp. It gave her something to focus on.

Once she was finished with the basic tasks, Daenerys, Ser Barristan and Larsha chased a handful of sheep down the hills towards the dragons, who had started to build their resting place on a distant hill.

It was now late evening and the sun hung low over the distant forest. Streaks of violet and red dotted the sky. It reminded her of a terrible wound.

Then, she went to work and called the dragons to her side.

The smell of burned flesh was still lingering in her voice when she returned to the camp to rest.

“Princess,” Ser Barristan interrupted her moment of silent contemplation. ”You should rest. It has been a long day.”

She wanted to refuse, but she felt the weariness in her bones.

“You are probably right, Ser Barristan,” Daenerys replied and fastened her cloak tighter around her shoulders. "But I don't feel tired. You know why."

Silently, she followed Ser Barristan back to the camp and settled before the crackling campfire. The flames swirled before her in colors of red, yellow, and orange. The heat tickled her skin and helped ease her nerves, though she was unable to banish away the grizzly sights swirling through her mind.

“Is it always this terrible?” she asked Ser Barristan, who sat on his velvet cloak. She envied him for his calm composure.

“War is always terrible, Princess,” he explained and gave her a sad smile. ”There is always pillaging, death, and rape to be found in times of war. You would have a hard time finding an army that never committed such acts of violence as you saw today, though I admit…this was rather nasty. It didn’t look like common pillage, but more like an act of revenge.”

Ser Barristan’s answer alarmed her more than she wanted to admit.

_We gave them a harrowing defeat. Was this the way of the Dothraki to take revenge for it?_

“The Dothraki like to kill…it is all they know,” Larsha added in broken Bastard Valyrian.”But he is right. This was an act of revenge. They butchered them to pay us back for their defeat.”

Daenerys accepted her words in silence and angled her head to search for a sign of Jon, Tito, and the others that had ridden out with him to scout.

It was a useless endeavor.

The sun had disappeared behind the horizon when Hibal and Chief Mallor finally returned to report their findings. They had set out to scout the lands ahead.

They looked grim and pale around their face, but that was no surprise to her. Burning the dead was no pleasant task.

“And what will we do now?” Daenerys asked them.”Do you think we should fight them?”

“That depends on my brother,” Hibal grumbled angrily and jerked his head at the chief, surrounded by his men. “We shouldn’t act hastily, though I want nothing more than to crash a few Dothraki skulls along the way.”

“I agree,” Chief Mallor added and grimly. ”This was different than usual and we don't have enough men to face even a smaller horde. Last time we had the advantage of surprise at our side.”

This aroused Daenerys' interest.

“How was it unusual?”

“They killed the majority of the women, but there is a great lack of boy children among the victims."

“What are you trying to say?” she asked, fresh hope and uncertainty filled her heart. Hope that Jon and the others might still be alive.

“That they were taken for a specific purpose,” Hibal explained returned and gave Chief Mallor a sideways glance. ”The Masters of Astapor are always keen on boy children. They need them to build their armies of Unsullied."

“But why leave the women?” Daenerys asked and wrinkled her brows in confusion. ”They could have earned a lot of coin by selling them to the slavers unless this was really just an act of revenge.”

“It seems so,” Hibal agreed through gritted teeth. He looked very tense, his jaw tight like a bowstring. His dark gaze rested on the dragons circling above the camp. ”They clearly came here to take revenge.”

Daenerys exhaled deeply and finally dared to ask the question resting on the tip of her tongue.

"Do you think Tito and the others could still be alive?"

"I am not sure," Chief Mallor began, but Daenerys' didn't want to hear the rest of his and shook her head in disbelief.

"Let's assume then that they were captured," Daenerys insisted. "Where would they bring them?"

"Astapor most likely," Hibal answered for his father. "They are famed for training the Unsullied and pit fighters. Tito and Jon and his companions are much too old to be turned into Unsullied, but they are the perfect age to be trained."

"Astapor," Daenerys replied, some determination returning to her. "Then, we must go there and search for them.“

"That is utter madness," Chief Mallor replied. "And first we must take care of the dead and return to Lazosh. I cannot leave my mother in the dark about this matter."

"I understand," Daenerys replied anxiously and searched Ser Barristan's gaze. She couldn't allow herself to show weakness. "Let us return to Lazosh and then we can make plans."

...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is not dead, and no I won't drag out his storyline or anything. He is going to do something useful, but I also wanted to give Dany a personal reason to go to Astapor rather than just do it randomly. 
> 
> Also, Dany needs to become a leader as well or she will never be more than just some random courtesan.


	57. Bran

**Bran**

The world was filled with the heavy smell of rain as he continued to race through the godswood. There were countless other smells assaulting his nose: grass and thorns, blackberries, worms, and mud.

He also heard the sound of squirrels and his mouth watered. He still recalled the taste of his first squirrel, but soon enough these thoughts were chased away by the smell of his brother.

Then, he heard it again.

It was a scraping sound. It made him stand on both paws and his tail rose in anticipation. He howled loudly, but there was only silence.

Suddenly, his brother wolf came rushing through the trees, moving almost as quietly as his wolf sisters had down in their childhood.

This time, the scraping sound was followed by the smell of men.

_Danger. It meant danger._

He rushed towards the sound, his brother wolf following after him. The stone walls rose before them, slick and wet from the rain. He bared his teeth, but the man-rock took no notice.

They rushed back to the gate, but crashed against it. It made a clanking sound, but there was no way through. He even tried to muzzle his head between the bars, but it was no use. They also tried to dig into the earth, but there were great flat stones beneath, half-covered with ice and mud.

Howling loudly, he paced back and forth and threw himself at the gate once more.

Then, he heard it.

 _Locked_ , he heard someone whisper. _Locked._

Yet, there was no one, only shifting shadows. He turned his head and saw only the shadow of a great tree, arising out of the black earth.

Suddenly, a loud shout pierced the silence.

Quickly, he swirled around and bounded back into the trees, wet leaves rustling beneath his paws and branches whipping at him as he and his wolf brother moved.

They hopped beneath the heart tree and around the pool, and there he found the shadow he had glimpsed.

He suddenly, recalled that he had once climbed this tree in human form. Growling, he sniffed at the tree and lifted his leg, marking it.

His brother had long sat back upon his haunches and joined his song.

The dogs joined as well and a terrible crescendo filled the dark night.

It seemed as if their false brothers smelled it too. 

_The enemy was here._

And then Bran was suddenly back in his chamber, tangled in his blankets and his breathing coming fast.

"Summer!" he called out. "Summer!"

It had felt so real.

Outside he could still hear the faint barking of the dogs.

Someone is here. 

Bran grabbed the bar overhead and pulled himself up, shouting at the top of his lungs, but it was no use. 

No one came, and then he realized why that was the case. 

Ser Roderik had needed every man of fighting age he could get his hands on and so Winterfell had been left without a garrison.

The rest had left not long after, six hundred men from Winterfell and the nearest holdfast, Castle Cerwyn. Cley Cerwyn had brought three hundred more to join on the march and Maester Luwin had sent ravens before them, summoning more men from White Harbour and the Barrowlands. Torrhen's Square was supposedly under attack by some monstrous war chief named Dagmar Cleftjaw.

Bran pulled himself from the bed, moving bar to bar until he finally reached the window.

With much effort, he swung back the shutters.

The yard below was empty and he could only see a sea of blackness. 

Winterfell was sleeping and unaware of the threat.

"Hodor!" he shouted. "Hodor!"

It was then, that the door opened. The man who entered Bran didn't know. He wore a leather jerking sewn with overlapping iron disks and carried a dirk in one hand and an axe in the other. 

"What do you want?" Bran asked fearfully. "This is my room."

Then, he saw Theon Greyjoy.

"We are not here to harm you, Bran."

"Theon?" Bran asked in confusion. "Did Robb send you?"

"Robb's far away."

"There are men out there," Bran said suspiciously. "And you are one of them."

"You are right," Theon grimaced and came to stand in front of his bed. "I am one of them and I came to take you."

Bran didn't understand and shook his head in disbelief.

"How did you even get in?"

"I sent four men ver the walls with ropes and they opened the postern gate for us. My men are killing yours now, my young lord."

Bran shook his head. "You are a traitor! You were father's ward!"

"And now you and your brother are my wards!" Theon insisted. "Or better said my hostages. You will be a fine gift to my _real_ father."

"I will not!" Bran struggled against his grip, but Theon was stronger. "I will not!"

"You will or I will kill every single person in that castle," Theon told him in a cold voice and forced him to look at him. This was so unlike the cheerful boy Bran had known in his youth. His dark eyes shone with darkness he hadn't seen before. "And now listen properly. You will not weep and you will not complain. Then, we will leave this place and in turn, I will allow the people in the castle to live. How does that sound to you? It is your decision to make...you are after all Robb's heir and the Stark in Winterfell.

Bran shook with anger and fear. Tears were burning in his eyes. If he could at least walk, but he was a cripple and nothing more.

"What do you say?" Theon asked once more, his cold fingers piercing into Bran's soft cheek. "Will your people die or live?"

Bran gritted his teeth and met Theon's gaze.

He couldn't have them die for his sake.

"Let them live. I shall do as you ask."

Theon smiled and placed Bran back unto the bed. "Well, then I shall help you dress, Lord Stark. Rickon is already waiting for you."

Bran had feared so much.

"What about Meera and Jojen? They are crannogmen."

"I have not seen them," Theon scoffed and searched through Bran's strong-box. "Now tell me what you to wear. We have no time to waste. My sister is waiting for us."

...


	58. Jon

**Jon**

The sun was burning down on him like the breath of hell, but that was no surprise. The lands of Lhazar had always been hotter than Westeros, but the further they moved along the road, the hotter it became.

That the Dothraki didn’t seem interested in granting them any rest didn’t help either. They were driving them forward as if they were nothing more than cattle, but perhaps that was the way they looked at them.

Cattle that would bring them much coin from the slavers in Astapor or any of the other Slaver Cities. At least, that was what Tito believed.

And it was the only explanation why the Dothraki hadn’t killed them all when they had ambushed them.

They had been scouting the lands far and wide and while they had found destroyed villages, they had seen little of the horde, which made Jon believe that they must have acted with much more precision and had split up their numbers.

Jon still recalled how they had fallen upon them like a horde of wild animals. They had been able to kill some of them, but they had been overwhelmed by their sheer numbers.

He still felt the biting sting in his shoulder where one of the arrows had struck. Luckily, his armor had avoided the worst and Tito had convinced the Dothraki that an alive slave would mean more coin for them.

Still, Jon felt utterly miserable in the position he was in. His arms were bound and his feet ached from the long walk. His shoulder was the least of his problems. The worst was the uncertainty and the knowledge that Daenerys must think them dead.

„I am sure of it now, Jon,“ Tito replied pointed at the dusty road ahead. It was broad and partly paved, but there was some damage here and there. These lands were dry and empty with the occasional tree that looked as if he would never bear any fruit. „They are bringing us to Astapor.“T

Tito had pointed at one of the broken stone slabs that could be found at crossroads and were written in High Valyrian.

Jon had even noticed it in passing as he had been more preoccupied with his thoughts.

„Astapor is by the sea, is it not?“ Jon asked hopeful and noticed that the other Lhazareen had turned their heads to listen to their talk. Some were warriors like them, but the most were village folk, young men and boys alike, that had been captured to be sold or worse, to be turned into Unsullied. „I remember seeing it on a map.“

„It is by the sea, but there is no escape,“ Tito replied. „The slavers are known to be careful when it comes to that.“

„How do you know?“ Jon asked him and felt the urge to brush the sweat from his face, but his arms were bound and the Dothraki whips told him that they better ought to get going. „Have you ever been to Astapor?“

„No,“ Tito replied. „But I have traveled the world and I have heard enough of Astapor to know that it is not a place where you can easily escape from. Many who are taken their never return.“

Jon heard the whispering of the young boys and felt the urge to throw himself at the Dothraki screamer that was snapping his whip.

It was hot anger that filled his stomach, but it was no use. He needed to be calm to find a way out of this miserable state.

„So, what do you think they will do with us?“

„We are too old to be Unsullied,“ Tito replied with a low voice. „I assume they will sell us to one of the pitmasters. They are always in search of fresh blood to feed their need for bloodshed. I heard some are even willing to fight in the pits to win their freedom.“

„Win their freedom?“ Jon asked. „What are you saying?“

„I am referring to criminals,“ Tito replied. „They can win their freedom by winning in the pits.“

„And how many survive?“

„Not many,“ Tito replied in an unusually serious tone. „But every pit fighter undergoes training and a testing period. For the slavers, it is a great investment to buy a pit fighter. They will not send us to our death without some proper training.“

„With proper training, you mean torture, no?“ Jon asked with a grim nod. „Well, I can accept that, but we must leave and help others.“

„We cannot do anything,“ Tito whispered with clenched teeth. „At least, not for now.“

„Daenerys will not let us die,“ Jon countered. „I know it.“

„Daenerys ought to stay away from Astapor,“ Tito advised. „It is no kind place. Especially, not for fled slaves.“

Jon felt a chill wash over him like a storm over a ship.

„She might even think we are dead,“ Jon replied and looked at the road ahead. There was no city in sight, only a road covered in dust and a sky that seemed to stretch endlessly.

They continued their walk for another handful of hours when the onset of twilight was beginning to be visible on the distant horizon. It felt as if the shadows were growing longer and more terrible by every passing hour, wanting to sallow Jon whole, almost like the misery inside his heart.

„You ought to rest,“ Tito told him after they had been forced to a place beside the road where the Dothraki had made their camp. They had also received some fermented milk and dried meat to fill their stomach, but Jon had barely any appetite. „Your arm needs time to heal.“

„You are one for talking,“ Jon replied snappingly. „You have no child.“

„But I have a family,“ Tito replied and patted his shoulder. „And I am want to leave this place as much as you.“

„I do not just want to escape,“ Jon replied with gritted teeth and looked at the young boys. „I do not want to abandon the people that were taken as slaves.“

„You are dreaming,“ Tito replied and patted his shoulder before leaving him to rest. "It would be suicide."

Jon closed his eyes at last and dreamed he was inside Ghost again.

His wolf was prowling beside Daenerys' horse, a landscape of hills and valleys rolling behind her. There were men with her, a good thousand of them, and when he looked up he could see the dragons circling over the sky.

Their cries were like music in his ears, but Daenerys‘ voice was even more encouraging.

„Ghost?“ she asked and turned her head to look at him. She wore her riding garments and her hair was tightly braided. She also carried her bow. „What is wrong? Do you sense something?“

Jon prowled towards her and soon enough her soft fingers were finding his furry head.

She was smiling.

„Have you seen Jon?“

Jon wished to speak, but he only managed a low howl.

„You are missing him, don’t you?“ Daenerys asked Ghost and patted his head. Then, she kicked her feet into the sides of her horse and followed after the rest of the retinue of riders. „But I must go back to Lazosh and make plans. I am sure we will find Jon in Astapor.“

Jon woke with a dry mouth and an aching arm, but soon enough they were walking again, the road ahead smoother, but the prospect of their future still uncertain.

But he knew that Daenerys‘ had been no dream. She was coming for them.

The thought gave him more strength than a cup of fresh wine or food.

„How far is it?“ Jon asked Tito when they made rest again, near a curving slope of the road. „To Astapor?“

Tito gave him a curious look. „Not long I think. Why are you suddenly to eager to get there?“

„Because once we get there we will be away from the Dothraki horde and can plan to escape,“ Jon replied and smiled weakly. „And because I know Daenerys is coming for us.“

Tito frowned.

„Do you have a sunburn? How can you be so sure?“

„I know it,“ Jon replied, for he doubted Tito would understand his connection with Ghost. „Have trust.“

…


	59. Sansa

**Sansa**

Sansa had been hiding ever since her mother and brother had returned from their travels. Robb had changed so much. He had grown into a hardened man, who reminded her more and more of their father, despite their striking resemblance in colouring.

His beard only added to his maturity, but there was another reason Robb was grimmer than usual. Only weeks ago, Roslin had given birth to a healthy girl that Robb had called Lyarra for their grandmother, but her good-sister had perished during the birth.

Sansa had not been there to see it. Maids were not allowed in the birthing chamber, but she knew that the Maester of Riverrun had been very distraught in the following days.

Roslin's brother Olyvar Frey had not spoken a single word since he had heard the dark tidings while Robb had just reacted with silence and shock before returning to his work.

For days, he and their Uncle Edmure and the Blackfish had been spending time in the council chamber while Sansa had wanted to speak with him, but he had always kept her at a distance as if he feared he might crumble to pieces the moment she saw his weakness.

She and Robb had never been as close as Jon and Arya, but Sansa knew the mind of her brother. He was incredibly sad and he couldn’t show it to anyone. The fact, that Arya had disappeared into thin air, had made it all the worse. Sansa couldn’t believe that her sister would be so stupid and selfish, but then she hadn’t been any better. She had been so enchanted with Joffrey’s beauty and had wanted nothing more than to marry him that she had lied about the incident with Nymeria.

That their Lady Mother had been gone for so long had made it all the harder, though Sansa had had plenty of company here in Riverrun.

It was the sound of the creaking door that called her back to the present and made her turn her head. It one of the servant girls that had been assigned to her by her Uncle Edmure.

„Your brother asks for your presence, Lady Sansa,“ the girl chirped.

Sansa gathered her skirts and took a quick glance at the looking-glass. Her dress was a bit dirty and hair red hair was in disorder, but then she doubted her mother wouldn't care what she looked like.

„I thank you,“ she replied at last and followed after the girl. „I am coming.“

She was not surprised to find her mother disturbed and pale upon her entrance. Robb must have just broken the news to her about Arya’s disappearance.

Even so, she graced Sansa with a trembling smile, a gesture Sansa gladly returned. Soon enough, they were holding each other and her mother was kissing her cheeks.

„You do look very lovely,“ she said and brushed her hand through her auburn hair. „Come sit down and let us speak.“

Sansa sat down next to her mother and noticed that they hadn’t even touched the cakes that were placed on the table nor the cups of wine. Her mother had not even changed her travelling clothes and her hair was wet from the rain outside.

„Mother spoke to Renly Baratheon,“ Robb said in a solemn tone and jerked his head at their mother. „He wishes to join House Stark and House Tyrell by marriage to forge an ever-lasting allegiance.“

Sansa was taken back by her mother’s answer and turned to look at her lady mother. „Is it true, mother?“

Her mother nodded her head in agreement. „It is true. King Renly wants you to marry his good-brother, Lord Willas Tyrell, the heir to Highgarden. He is a good match for sure, but he is older than you by several years and had a misfortunate accident.“

Sansa could only imagine an older version of Ser Loras Tyrell and her heart made a jump. She would be the lady of Highgarden, a dream come true, but then she recalled how Joffrey had blinded her with his false beauty.

What if the Tyrells were just using them like the Lannisters?

The thought scared her more than anything.

„How old is he?“ Sansa asked her mother.“Very old?“

Her Lady Mother shook her head. „I think Queen Margaery said he is twenty-three and as I said…he had a misfortunate accident when he was a young knight and now he is crippled and has to use a walking stick to move, but then he is lucky to have two capable brothers who are capable knights. As heir to Highgarden, he has other duties, duties which you could help him to carry.“

Sansa gulped and wondered what had happened to him that he would have to use a walking stick? Did he fall from a horse during a joust? Or did he fight someone in melee?

It sounded all so very heroic and sad.

It was not how she had expected her future husband to be, but Lady of Highgarden was better than to be married to a bastard.

It was surely also a good thing that her brother and King Renly were forging an allegiance. House Stark needed allies.

„So, what do you say, Sansa?“ Robb asked her and took a sip from his cup. „What are your thoughts on this match?“

Sansa was not surprised that Robb asked for her opinion. He was not like the other fathers and brothers who would force her into a marriage against her will. That Arya thought he would just show how blind her sister could be. Still, Sansa hoped Arya as well...

„I would like to meet him first,“ Sansa replied. „Before we marry. I want to get to know him.“

„A good idea,“ Robb agreed. „Though King Renly seems very eager to see you wed as soon as possible. I will refuse him of course if that is what you wish. You are only fifteen-name-days old.“

„You ought not to insult the King,“ their mother added. „But I agree with you. Sansa is very young. Perhaps Lord Willas can be convinced to be patient…“ she trailed off.

„I shall speak to King Renly personally,“ Robb added with determination. „And I shall accompany Sansa to King’s Landing.“

Her mother shook her head. „I disagree with that notion Robb. You would only endanger yourself.“

„Well, I do not intend to go alone,“ Robb countered. „I intend to take Uncle Edmure with me. He is now the Lord of the Riverlands and I am sure the King wishes to meet with him as well. I also do not wish to keep you away from Rickon and Bran any longer. They need you, mother.“

Her mother nodded her head and bit her lips. Sansa could see how torn she was.

„I long to go home to Winterfell, but I do not wish to leave you if you have still need of me.“

„Bran and Rickon have more need of you,“ Robb insisted. „And I do not think it is a good idea to keep my child here in Riverrun. You know how to take care of children and I need to see the matters here in the South. It is the best solution.“

„What about Arya?“ her mother asked. „What will you do?“

„I have already sent out men to find her. I have a feeling I know where she went.“

„You do?“ her mother asked. „Where?“

„Jon,“ Robb said and leaned his head on his balled fist. „I am sure she went to seek out Jon. They were always the closest, which makes it even more important to convince King Renly to allow him to return to Winterfell.“

„He will not agree,“ her mother said. „You know it. Not as long as he consorts with the Targaryen Princess.“

„Renly will agree,“ Robb replied coldly and looked almost like their father. „Or he can forget about this allegiance. I helped him to his crown and he will learn that I am not just his subject, but his alley.“

Her mother paled.

„Robb…,“ she began, but her brother cut her off.

„I am the Lord of the North and I will not bow down to Renly,“ he replied. „But I will show him the respect that a King deserves. Do not fear, mother.“

„I have good reasons to be afraid,“ their mother replied. „We have heard nothing of your father.“

„I have sent word to the Wall and Winterfell,“ Robb sighed. „I am sure we will soon know more, mother.“

„I hope so,“ their mother replied and leaned over to take Robb’s hand. „And there is also the matter of the Kingslayer. I hope it does not distress you too much.“

„The Kingslayer will join the Night’s Watch,“ Robb replied even colder. „I shall send him with you North, mother.“

„It is not,“ their mother replied, a hint of colour returning to her cheeks. „Perhaps I could travel to the Wall myself? To see your father…“ she trailed off.

Robb’s gaze darkened. „The Wall is no place for you, mother.“

Their mother said nothing and rose to her feet. She looked exhausted and sad as she looked at Sansa.

„You have still to introduce me to my granddaughter, my son.“

Robb exhaled deeply. „As you wish mother."

In the end, it was Sansa who led her mother to Lyarra’s crib.

As expected, she was very much awake and was gurgling happily.

Sansa’s heart grew sad whenever she looked at the little babe, though she was the sweetest of beings.

Especially, when she was smiling. Sansa sighed every time she wrapped her little hand around her finger.

„She comes after Lady Roslin,“ Sansa told her mother as she lifted the babe from the cradle. The nursemaid had shown her how to do it. „But her hair is all Robb.“

Her mother eyed the babe with a sad expression.

„She looks more like Arya.“

…


	60. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Daenerys watched in silence how Tito’s mother wound the shapeless silken around Daenerys’ body: first around the hips and then under one arm and then over a shoulder to keep it on. _Tokar_ this garment was called, the dress of the slave masters.

This specific one was made of dark silk and decorated with red fringes. Tito’s mother asked her girls to make it from one of her finer dresses.

The _tokar_ suited Daenerys’ slender body perfectly, but trying to make the first clumsy steps made her sceptical of this plan. She had an even harder time keeping the garment in place as she continued to walk.

It looked ridiculous and Ser Barristan seemed to share her displeasure. His bright blue eyes were filled with worry sadness she turned to look at him.

“I look as if I am going to pee myself,” Daenerys said. ”Are you sure the Good Masters won’t laugh at me?”

Tito’s mother smiled warmly. „I am sure they will be distracted by the presence of your dragons, dear child.“

„Maybe,“ Daenerys added sceptically. ”But I think it is better if I learn how to walk properly.“

„Of course,“ Tito’s mother agreed. „And this should be no problem…I still recall some lessons from my times at court. I had to wear far more elaborate garments than this one.”

Daenerys recalled then that she had been born as a Princess of Yi Ti, though it was hard to believe seeing her garbed in her dirty robes plastered with pastes from her work as a healer.

„You ought to do something with your hair as well,“ Tito’s mother added and continued pulling it forward and backwards as if she didn’t know what to do with it.

Then, Dany exhaled deeply and furrowed her brows. „We certainly have to do something about your hair. Have you considered getting yourself a crown?“

“A crown?” Daenerys asked in surprise. “No…I haven't considered wearing a crown.”

“Well, you are going to impersonate a Queen and every Queen needs a crown,” Tito’s mother countered. ”We could melt down a bit of gold to make one…it would be cheap a cheap crown, but I doubt the Good Masters would know the difference. What do you think?”

Daenerys fell silent and her gaze wandered back Ser Barristan.

“What do you think, good Ser?”

“A crown is a good idea,” Ser Barrsitan agreed and started stroking his growing beard. „But a Queen should have jewels as well.“

“Quite right,” Tito’s mother agreed, a smile playing on her red lips. ”You can borrow mine.”

Daenerys opened her mouth in protest, but the smile of Tito’s mother silenced her.

“I have no use for them,” she assured Daenerys and patted her cheek. ”Please, take them.”

Daenerys sighed and helped Tito’s mother to remove the garment from her body. Beneath she still wore her old dress. The one she made herself, embellished with the stitching of a wolf and a dragon.

“So, I have my costume,” Daenerys said and searched the face of Tito’s mother.” And you really think this mummery will fool the Good Masters?”

“The Good Masters will be blinded by their greed,” Tito’s mother declared. ”Besides, it is not really a mummery. You are a Targaryen and it wouldn’t appear strange if you wanted to retake the crown that once belonged to your family. The abilities of the Unsullied are known far and wide. Why wouldn’t you want to acquire such capable fighters? And while I cannot say whether you will find Jon or the others there, but I know that they will allow you into the city.”

“True,” Daenerys agreed, but Daenerys couldn’t help but feel doubt clouding her mind. ”But that doesn’t mean I like pretending to be a slaver.“

Tito’s mother touched her cheek. „Sometimes, we all have to do things we do not like.“

Daenerys nodded her head and allowed Tito’s mother to take care of her hair. When all was said and done, her hair was cut and tightly braided to make it appear longer.

„You look very much like your mother,“ Ser Barristan complimented her afterwards when she returned to Aemon, who was occupied with his toys. He had been a little disturbed by Jon’s lack of presence, but he was still too young to understand such matters. As long as he was properly fed and someone took care of changing his smallclothes.

Ghost’s presence helped as well, but more so Daenerys than her son, who thought of the wolf as nothing more than a very comfortable pillow to sleep or pull on.

Now the wolf was resting upon the dirty rug he had made his constant sleeping place, but earlier he had been constantly howling as if he was hoping to get Daenerys‘ attention.

„Princess,“ Ser Barristan’s voice and the soft touch of his hand resting upon her shoulder called her back to the present. „Are you well?“

„I am well,“ Daenerys replied and squeezed his hand. „I am just worried we will not find what we are searching for in Astapor.“

„I am no seer,“ Ser Barristan did not sugar-coat the situation for her. „But I don’t think Jon is dead.“

„I think the same way,“ Daenerys agreed and smiled. „At least my gut-feeling is telling me that.“

„That’s good,“ Ser Barristan aid and gave her an encouraging smile. „That’s good.“

…


	61. Arya

**Arya**

The Golde Company had raised its gilded banners with pride beyond the rolling hills of Volantis. Tents in numerous colors littered the camp and were filled with the laughter of men, the whickering of horses, and the smell of roasted meat over a firepit.

Yet, the men here were always on guard, their spears or swords at closed hand. Arya was fascinated by it all to be in this strange company, these men who had probably seen more than a good hundred battles.

At the same time, she felt distrust towards Toyne and the other men, especially this Ser Jorah Mormont, who had spoken ill about her Lord Father, but she also wanted to find Jon and these men wanted the same, though for a different reason. In truth, they wanted the Princess, but Arya knew Jon would never give her up if he really ran away with her. That was not her brother.

Nym’s presence also helped her to forget her fears and seemed to bring her some sort of respect, for none of these hardened men dared to get close to her direwolf.

„Come, Lady Stark,“ Jorah Mormont said in a mocking tone. „We don’t have all day.“

Arya smiled when Nym raised her head and bared her teeth at the man.

„Nym disagrees.“

Ser Jorah snorted and Arya rushed after the other men, Nym at her heels and her hand always resting on her blade, the blade Jon had gifted her for her last name day.

She followed after Toyne and his spymaster, Lysono Maar was his name, a silver-haired and purple-eyed man who looked more like a woman than man, but seemed to have a certain amount of cunning to him.

At last, they arrived at a golden tent with golden banners flapping on to wooden staffs and ugly skulls watching her as she passed by.

More and more men had come to get a glimpse at her wolf, but Toyne seemed completely ignorant to it.

„You are going to meet a prince, Lady Stark,“ he informed her as she lifted the flap of the tent.“I hope you know your manners.“

Sansa would, but Arya wasn’t sure about it. Nor did she care about this stupid Prince.

Yet, Toyne was still glaring at her, expecting an answer.

„I shall try my best.“

Toyne made a snorting sound and pushed the flap of the tent aside, revealing a lavish pavilion with golden chairs, a polished table covered with a bowl of fruits and a pair of cups and a flagon of wine.

Arya’s stomach made a grumbling sound when she saw the fruits, but the presence of the two men standing in the middle of the pavilion helped to distract her.

One was tall and red-haired and leaning over a map that was spread over his lap. His beard was just as red, but streaked with grey and his bright blue eyes spoke of much anguish and worry.

The other man was much younger and seated in the chair beside the sizzling brazier. He was around Jon’s age, his face youthful and his hair silver, but the tips were blue as if the color had not completely faded yet. Sansa would have probably called him pretty, but Arya had expected more of a Prince who wanted to tame dragons.

She had expected someone older and more experienced, but even so, she could not deny that he had the Targaryen looks, which confused her even more.

What kind of Prince was he? A Targaryen or perhaps a Blackfyre? That would certainly make more sense given the history of the Golden Company. Arya remembered it all too well from Maester Luwin’s Lessons.

It was then that she recalled the meeting she had witnessed in King’s Landing. The meeting between the fat lord and the Spider.

They had spoken of a Black dragon and Jon and Daenerys. Could it be that they had referred to this young man?

Arya felt the sudden urge to laugh and covered her mouth with her two hands to contain her burst of emotions.

This young man could be hardly called a dragon. A baby dragon maybe, but not the successor of Bittersteel or Daemon Blackfyre.

„Toyne,“ the red-haired man greeted Toyne and lifted his blues from the map. „What do you bring? A girl?“

Arya did as she had been asked and minded her manners. Suddenly, all the overbearing lessons of her Septa became useful.

She dropped a quick curtsy and smiled like Sansa would have done it.

„I am Arya Stark of Winterfell.“

The red-haired man nearly dropped the map, his eyes wide open as he stared at Arya.

Then, he turned to Toyne. „Is this some kind of bad jest?“

„No,“ Jorah Mormont threw back. „It’s Stark brat. We could also show you the direwolf if you do not believe us, Griff.“

The man called Griff exhaled through his nose and narrowed his gaze as he looked at her.

„She does look a little like Lyanna Stark.“

„She does?“ the baby dragon asked with a hint of disbelief ringing in his voice. His eyes were searching her face greedily, two bluish orbs that were filled with youthful vigor. „This one is just a girl, but Lady Lyanna Stark was said to be a great beauty. Why else would my father have loved her?“

Arya couldn’t believe her ears. Rhaegar had not loved her aunt. He had raped and murdered her.

But she doubted it would bring her any favors if she disagreed with their Prince. And that he found her ugly didn’t bother her at all. She had always known it.

„She certainly has the Stark coloring,“ Connington summed up and placed the map on the nearby table. „But the more important question is. What the fuck is Eddard Stark’s daughter doing here in Volantis?“

„I am here to find my brother. Jon, who ran away with Princess Daenerys. The King wanted to kill him, but my father said no and got sent to the Night’s Watch for it.“

„Eddard Stark‘s bastard?“ Jon Connigton sneered. „You came all the way to find him?“

„He is my brother,“ Arya defended and placed her hand on the hilt of his blade. „And not just some bastard.“

„And you came all the way to find him?“ the young man asked sudden curiosity shining in his blue eyes. „You are rather young. How old are you?“

„Old enough,“ Arya replied, but kept it to herself that she was flowered, least they thought it a good idea to marry her off. „And how old are you, your grace? What is your name anyway?“

Strangely, the young man didn’t seem angered by her bluntness. He even smiled a little and leaned over to pour some wine into a cup.

Then, he picked fruit from the table and handed it to Arya. It was a peach, fleshy, and wet.

„For me?“

„You look hungry,“ the young man replied and brushed his hair out of his face before he lowered his head in greeting. „And I am Prince Aegon Targaryen, the son of Elia Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen, the Last Dragon.“

Arya nearly dropped the peach she had just tasted. The sweetness of it had frozen her brain, but when she had heard the name Rhaegar, she finally understood why he had spoken so well of him.

He was his father, though that fact confused her even more. Why then had the fat lord and the Spider called him the Black Dragon?

„You are Rhaegar’s son?“ Arya asked and took another bite.

„I am his heir and the rightful King,“ he continued to explain.“Which is why I desire to find my aunt and reunite with my family.“

„And wed her,“ Connington added and looked at Mormont. „That is if she really is who she supposed to be. Not just some purple-eyed and silver-haired pillow girl.“

„I have seen her,“ Jorah Mormont. „She has a touch of Queen Rhaella about her. If I had known it then, I would have not sold her.“

„We thought her dead for many years,“ Toyne grumbled. „It surprised us all to hear about her survival.“

„And the dragons,“ added Aegon Targaryen eagerly.

„She is with my brother, who saved her,“ Arya threw back and dropped what was rest of the peach upon the table. Her fingers were wet and sticky, but she was thirsty and drank the wine greedily. „I doubt she would want to marry you.“

„Your brother is a bastard,“ Connington snapped. „What could he offer her?“

„More than you,“ Arya replied. „Who abandoned any belief in her survival. Do you even know where she is?“

„They speak of dragons in the East,“ Toyne said and picked an apple. „We can only find her if we try.“

„And move the entire Golden Company to the East?“ asked Lysono Maar asked. „Impossible. I say we wait until we know more. I am sure the dragons will make her whereabouts known to us.“

Arya hoped they would, though she didn’t trust this Prince and this Jon Connington.

Yet, they were the only way to find Jon.

„And what shall we do with the girl?“ Toyne asked gruffly. „Lock her up?“

„She stays with us,“ Aegon added cheerfully. „She is, after all, a Lady of a great house and while I do not like the idea of my Aunt consorting with her bastard brother, I sill owe him a debt. He saved my aunt from Robert Baratheon.“

Arya’s dislike lessened when she heard this.

„And what will you do to repay my brother? Steal his lady?“

Aegon shrugged his shoulders.

„I could make him a Stark,“ he said. „Perhaps that would make him forget about his misplaced affections for my Aunt.“

„A high price,“ Toyne grumbled. „Are you sure?“

„I need a Stark loyal to me when I take the crown,“ Aegon replied and raised his chin as he looked at the man who had taken a seat next to Connington. It made him look taller and less like the baby dragon he truly way. „Why not make use of what we have?“

„Well spoken,“ a soft voice interrupted their conversation and made all heads turn. „Well spoken, your grace, but I think it is time for your lessons.“

The voice belonged to a woman dressed in the robes of a Septa. It was hard to say how old she was, but she had bright violet eyes and a fine-shaped face.

„You heard Lemore,“ Connington grumbled. „Attend to your lessons.“

„What about the girl?“ Aegon asked and jerked his head towards her. „I do not mind the company.“

Septa Lemore eyed Arya curiously.

„Lady Stark is welcome to join,“ she said in a friendly tone that surprised Arya. She was so very different from Septa Mordane.

Perhaps she could learn more about this Prince while pretending to be a Lady of a great house.

Thus, she smiled in agreement.

„It would be my pleasure.“

…


	62. Jon

**Jon**

Jon swung his practice blade and missed his opponent by a hair’s breadth. His opponent was called Bahadur, a giant man as dumb as a stone. He swung his hammer as if it was nothing more than a child's toy, but he was slow, so very slow.

That Jon was of a rather graceful stature, helped as well. He had done how Ser Roderik had always told him to handle bigger opponents. He had allowed him to exhaust himself and by now he was sweating like a pig, his face deeply flushed and a quick burst of breath rising from his lips.

He was also angry, almost like a wild bull that was ready to tear apart Jon, but luckily he missed every time and when he did Jon lifted his shield in time to parry the attack, leaving his arms aching.

„This is enough,“ the man who was in charge of the pit slaves declared at last. „You ought to rest now, Bahadur.“

His name was Aaggos he was a stocky and short man, but his muscled upper body told him that he had trained from early childhood on. His faded tattoos showing on his neck also told Jon that had once been a slave, as were many others in this Maester’s employ. This Maester was called Kraznys a fat and soiled man who owned several fighting pits had become rich by investing money into the Unsullied and owned another dozen pillow houses all over Essos. All this Tito had learned from the Head Slave, a man whom Kraznys trusted more than any other person, or at least that is what the man had bragged in front of them when Jon had been dragged before him.

Jon was glad that the training was over and stuck his blade into the dry earth of the training pit, a round arena surrounded by rising seats. Sometimes, Kraznys watched them from a gilded pavilion, almost like a King, being fed and being fanned by half-naked boys.

Jon felt only disgust whenever he looked at the man, but he had to keep his anger in reign. He needed to remain calm and survive.

He knew Daenerys was coming. Ghost had shown him.

„You did well,“ Tito replied. „But I doubt anyone could defeat this monster if he was dressed up in proper armor. He is too big and one hit by this hammer would be enough to kill him.“

„I hope we will be out of here before this happens,“ Jon replied and eyed Tito with worry. His arm was bandaged, for he had hurt himself in a mock battle, but that didn’t keep him from making himself useful. He was constantly spending time with the other slaves, asking them for information about Jory and the others, who had been taken to a different fighting pit .“This place is hell on earth.“

„Especially, if you are a young boy,“ Tito replied through gritted teeth. „If I ever get the chance I will cut this Master’s little finger off and feed it to the crows.“

„I would like to a lot more to him,“ Jon replied and noticed the presence of a young slave girl. She was tall and golden-haired and dressed in the pink robes of a pillow girl. She carried a jug of water around, offering it to the pit fighters. Some smiled at her, some hooted and others touched her unseemly beneath her loose robes. She didn’t protest nor curse them but accepted their attentions without complaint.

Jon felt the urge to step in, but he didn’t want to make any enemies. These men were both criminals and slaves, men who had not grown up pampered like him. Men who would kill for a simple piece of meat or even a pretty girl like that.

At last, the young girl came to give them to drink. Jon drank greedily, the cool water spilling upon this bare upper body and the ground. Tito drank more calmly and smiled at the young girl.

„What was your name?“

The girl seemed startled by his question and it took her brief moment before she realized what he had wanted to ask her.

„I am Doreah,“ she replied fearfully. „What do you want sheepman?“

„I am Tito,“ he replied friendly as ever. „You are from Lys, are you not?“

The girl nodded her head and kept her distance. It seemed she feared they might hurt her.

„I was born in Lys, in a well-renowned pillow house,“ she explained. „They said my mother had good breeding. Later, I served a rich mistress in Volantis and was sold after my mistress disappeared. Thus, I ended up here, in Master Kraznys’s employ.“

„I am from Lhazar,“ Tito added friendly and jerked his head at Jon. „This one over there is from Westeros.“

„Across the Sea?“ Doreah asked with awe. „They say there are no slaves there. Is it as beautiful as they say?“

Jon shrugged his shoulders. „We have no slaves, but we have our own problems.“

„Doreah,“ Tito said and flashed her another smile. „Tell, me…Are you allowed to leave the Master’s mansion?“

„I am sometimes allowed to leave,“ she confirmed. „Why are you asking?“

„We have friends in another fighting pit,“ Jon replied. „I think Tito is hoping if you could bring them some message from us. I am sure they would be pleased to know that we are well.“

„I could do it,“ Doreah replied. „But even slaves do not do things for free. I want something in return.“

Jon nodded his head in confirmation, though he was sure she would ask of him.

„Call for me tomorrow,“ Doreah replied. „The Master will grant it. I need some time to get away from others. In return, I will deliver your message.“

Jon felt uncomfortable to ask for another girl’s company, but then he didn’t have to share her bed.

„I agree,“ Jon replied and exchanged a glance with Tito. „We agree to your bargain.“

„Another thing Doreah,“ Tito called after her as she was about to go. „Do you know about all the comings and goings of the city?“

„I do,“ Doreah confirmed. „What do you want to know?“

„Just the newest tidings you know about,“ Jon added.

„There is always something going on in this city. The years are running out and the great festival of blood will take place two weeks from now. People from all over Slaver’s Bay will flock to Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen to see the fighting pits. But there are also tidings about a visitor…a Dragon Queen. The Masters are very excited about it.“

Jon felt both fear and relief. The Dragon Queen could be no one else but Daenerys, but she was also putting herself in danger for his sake...

„A Dragon Queen?“ Jon asked and drew closer to touch Doreah’s arm, but she backed away as if she had been burned by a very hot fire. „Are you sure?“

„I am sure,“ Doreah replied and left them then. „Call upon and I shall be your emissary.“

Jon was less anxious that night when he was sent into the bathing houses with a good dozen of other pit fighters. The hardened warriors had their own bath while the younglings had to bathe together, which often ended up in terrible chaos and sometimes fighting because everyone spoke a different kind of tongue.

„You should allow someone to take a look at your arm,“ Tito told Jon who eyed his scar every night. I had been an arrow wound that had healed well enough, but at times Jon still felt a stinging pain whenever he moved it in the wrong way.

„I am going to survive it,“ Jon replied and gritted his teeth when he rolled unto his side to look at Tito. Their sleeping place was a round chamber that was only lightened by the dim moonlight falling through the narrow windows. „But I am worried about this festival of blood. We must leave before this event.“

„You heard Doreah,“ Tito replied. „Daenerys is coming. We must help her. Perhaps there will be an opportunity for us to speak to her.“

„Perhaps,“ Jon replied and rolled back unto his back to stare at the dark ceiling. There were no stars or the moon to be seen, only black stone that was usually crimson during the day. „Perhaps.“

…


	63. Tyrion

**Tyrion**

Tyrion had dreamed of his death. He still remembered how he had fled the Red Keep in company of Lord Varys, who had also promised him a way to take revenge against Renly.

 _Revenge for what_ , he wondered then. For Tywin, a man that had always hated Tyrion and would have strangled him as a babe had he not been born a Lannister. Jaime, who Tyrion had loved and who had loved him, but was now far away, in the Hands of Robb Stark. Tyrion doubted Robb Stark would kill him, but he doubted Jaime would ever see his home again. Then, there was Cersei, his beautiful sister, who had hated him even more than his father.

At times, he saw Cersei's face dancing before his eyes. He had heard that she was Joanna Lannister reborn, but Tyrion had always imagined that his mother would have loved him with all her heart, no matter how ugly he was.

He should have died, but now he was still here, in the darkness. It had given him much time to reconsider the past and the future and often brought him back to his niece and nephew.

Tommen and Joff were most likely dead. Renly would not allow Cersei’s bastard sons to live, in fear someone might use them against him. Only Myrcella remained, who Tyrion had sent to Dorne, to protect his family against the Dornish spears.

"My lord,“ a distant voice called out to him through the darkness. It was a high-pitched voice and the smell of perfume entered his nose. It was Lord Varys. "Are you there, my lord?“

Lord Tyrion looked up and found the light blinding him momentarily. Lord Varys‘ face was blurred and distant, but he could hear his words well enough.

„You are alive, my lord,“ He said. „Alive and smelly, but alive.“

„Sometimes, it is hard to believe,“ Tyrion added. „How much time has passed?“

„A handful of weeks,“ Lord Varys replied and helped him out of the box.

„And where are we going?“ Tyrion asked. „You never told me.“

„Pentos,“ Lord Varys replied. „We are in Pentos.“

Tyrion looked around and saw a beautiful garden and a mansion looming in the distance, cast in the red glimmer of morning light.

„And this mansion,“ Tyrion replied. „Is it yours?“

„Mine,“ another man said, who had been standing behind them, beneath the shade of a pavilion. Tyrion must have grown blind in the darkness. He should have seen this fat man. „My Lord Lannister.“

The fat man in pink robes bared his yellow teeth to the world.

„And you are, my lord?“ asked Tyrion.

„I am Illyrio Mopatis. A pleasure to meet you.“

„The pleasure is mine,“ Tyrion replied and bowed diligently. „But I wonder why Lord Varys brought me here instead of Dorne, where I could be with my niece?“

„First we should sit down and eat. You must be hungry, my lord.“

Tyrion was indeed hungry, but the smell was worse. He was in dire need of a way to refresh himself.

„I would prefer a bath first.“

„A bath you shall have,“ Magister Illyrio confirmed and waved his hand at Tyrion. „And a pretty servant girl to keep your bed warm if it pleases you.“

Tyrion’s wishes were fulfilled without hesitation. He was afforded a proper bath, a pretty girl from Lys to scrub his back and keep his bad warm, though Tyrion sent her away when she looked at him as if he was some dirty little monster.

Once fully dressed, Tyrion was brought back into the Magister’s spacious garden. His clothing was a bit too tight, more suited for the size of a child than a grown man like him. They had also been worn before or at least that was what Tyrion believed.

The magister was already sprawled on a canopy when he arrived in the garden and was feasting on honeyed chicken, fresh fruits, and other delicacies.

Tyrion ate greedily, but the wine was even better. Sweet summer wine and Arbor Gold, a dream come true.

„It is good to know that you are pleased with my feast. I am always pleased to serve my guests.“

„That is good to hear,“ Tyrion replied and took another sip from his cup of wine. „But that doesn’t answer my questions.“

He looked directly at Lord Varys when he spoke next.

„Why did you bring me here?“

„Daenerys Targaryen,“ Magister Illyrio explained. „Have you heard about her reappearance?“

Tyrion nodded his head in confirmation.

„Robert was very displeased and wished to kill her. I heard she ran off with Eddard Stark’s bastard, an odd thing, considering their past. Well, I have seen the girl. She was very pretty. I suppose the bastard couldn’t hold himself back.“

„King Robert is dead,“ Lord Varys replied. „And now his foolish brother has King’s Landing. It seems Robb Stark outplayed us, a surprise given his connection to his father. Well, there is still Lord Stannis, who is still lurking at Dragonstone, probably waiting for the right moment to strike. That is why we must act quickly and put our pieces in place.“

„And who are these pieces?“ Tyrion asked curiously. „Daenerys Targaryen and Eddard Stark’s bastard?“

„The bastard is of no use to us,“ Lord Varys replied. „Though I suppose it would be better not to kill him. They say Robb Stark is fond of his brother and our prince will need Robb Stark to become King of all the Seven Kingdoms, as is his birthright.“

Tyrion had lost the thread, but he doubted these two men would tell him anything even if he asked them.

They would tell him only what they wanted him to know. Not more than that.

„They say Princess Daenerys has hatched three dragons,“ Lord Ilyrio added. „A strange tale, don’t you think?“

„If so then it is even more important that we find her.“

Tyrion had stopped drinking at the mention of dragons, his heart nearly jumping out of his chest. It couldn’t be…dragons had been gone for more than a century.

„Truly?“ he asked. „They speak of dragons? Where did you hear these illustrious tales?“

„They have been spreading all over Essos, but we have yet to find the Princess‘ concrete whereabouts,“ Illyrio added.“And the dragons."

„It’s only a matter of time,“ Lord Varys said. „My little birds will soon tell us where they are should our Prince not be successful, but there is more, old friend. It seems someone important found his way into Toyne’s hands.“

„Who could it be?“ Magister Illyrio asked, his voice filled with sudden curiosity. „You neglected to tell me that again.“

Varys smiled. „Arya Stark.“

Tyrion nearly dropped his cup. How had Robb Stark’s sister found her way to Essos? It made no sense whatsoever, but the same could be said about these mysterious dragons.

„Ar you sure?“ Lord Illyrio asked. „Did someone confirm this tale to you?“

„Ser Jorah did,“ Lord Varys replied. „The girl also had a direwolf with her.“

„A direwolf,“ Tyrion repeated in disbelief. „What a surprising development, but you two have yet to tell me who this mysterious Prince is?“

„You will find out soon enough, Lord Tyrion,“ Magister Illyrio replied. „For you will soon travel to Volantis in company of Lord Varys.“

Volantis. That was even further away from Dorne than he had hoped, but what could he do other than comply?

He relied on Lord Varys, no matter how much he disliked that notion.

Thus, he smiled and lifted his cup. „To a good journey!“

…


	64. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Dany woke to the sound of footsteps on the ground. She looked up as she was rubbing her eyes and found Ser Barristan Selmy looking down at her.

His polished armor glimmered like molten silver, but his smile was warm like sunshine.

"It is time,“ the old knight said and nodded his head at the road ahead. „Astapor is just beyond these dusty hills. You ought to wash and dress.“

Dany nodded her head and had Larsha help her with the preparations. She was washing off the dust while Larsha and her girls were helping her put on her tokar, just like Tito’s mother had shown them.

It took a handful of tries, but with time they made her look passable. Her hair had already been braided and only the crown was missing.

It was nothing more than a silver circlet with three dragon heads engraved on the front, but it was better than to come before the Masters as a beggar.

She needed to appear as if she as one of them, despite the tattoos visible on her skin.

„You look splendid, Princess,“ Ser Barristan complimented and helped her into her litter. „Like a true queen.“

„I feel like a mummer,“ Dany replied and pulled the silken drapes back into place. „And I shall never wear such unpracticable gowns again, even if I should ever return to Westeros. I am only doing this for Jon.“

„I am sure he is still alive,“ Ser Barristan reassured her and took hold of her horse."He is a survivor."

They moved along the road in a slow caravan consisting of several hundred Lhazareen warriors. They rode on horses and had donned their finest of clothing, their weapons beautifully polished.

Yet, there were also those who had discarded their warrior garb and were pretending to be slaves and will hopefully be able to infiltrate the city.

Dany had been surprised how many had offered their help, but then they were probably hoping to find their children in this city.

She didn’t even want to think about what The Maasters were doing these boys they had captured. She had heard only bits and pieces about the Unsullied, but it was enough to give her nightmares for a century to come.

The slow movement of the litter made it all too easy to fall asleep and the heat had only added to her exhaustion.

Ever slowly, the world grew blurred and distant to her, as they continued along the broad road.

It was a stranger’s voice that called her then.

„Wake, Princess Daenerys,“ the woman’s voice rang in her ears and when Dany looked up she found a strange woman walking beside her litter. Her face was hidden beneath a lacquered mask of crimson and her velvet robes moved behind her like a snake through the grass. „Wake up and see the darkness ahead.“

Dany believed she had seen her before. Her voice was familiar.

„Who are you? Do I know you?“

„We met before,“ the woman replied. „In Volantis. When your betrothed brought you to the temple to have your blood tested. It seems as if fate has brought us together once more. I am glad you headed my warning.“

Dany remembered. „Trust no one but the wolf. You were right. Misfortune befell me not long after our first meeting, but also much happiness.“

„Happiness and sadness,“ the woman replied. „Are like the tide. They come and go, but you must not be disturbed by it. You must face it, for much darkness lies ahead of you.“

Dany didn’t like these kinds of riddles. „Speak clearly.“

„That is not my way,“ the woman replied. „Instead, remember my warning. Trust no one but the wolf.“

Dany woke all too sudden and as she turned her head and pushed aside the silken drape she found the woman gone.

Had it been just a dream?

She couldn’t say.

She had no other choice but to move on to the next task.

Astapor’s walls could be seen from afar. They were bright crimson, like dried blood.

The road leading to the city was cobbled and overgrown with greenery and flowers, but the signs marking the distance were still there.

Along the way, they encountered merchants protected by thick-muscled men with sharp spears and swords. They all had slaves with them, all bound and changed like animals.

The sight made Dany fearful, but the presence of her dragons helped to calm her strained nerves.

Not much to her surprised, they were stopped long before they reached the city gates.

Men garbed with pointed heads and spears and shields accompanied the men that were carried in numerous litters by a good dozen of slaves and obviously came to greet them.

Dany straightened herself and tried to appear proud and unmoved by their presence. Like a true queen.

„Welcome, Princess Daenerys,“ greeted her one of the men in the common tongue, who lay sprawled in his cushioned litter. He was slouching against his seat, his body fat and heavy from too much leisure and food. „Welcome to Astapor.“

Dany feigned a smile and replied in the common tongue. „I am pleased to be here in your beautiful city…I have heard much about it.“

„You will enjoy…,“ he began, but another man cut him off.

„Stop with these false pointless pleasantries,“ the other man said in a rather rude tone. He was younger, but just as fat. His breasts visible through his layered robes of silk were bigger than Dany’s, but going by the golden jewels decorating his arms and neck he must be a very rich man indeed. „Or she will babble on and on and on and never leave.“

Dany had understood it all and tried to appear foolish.

„I know you are asking why I am here,“ she explained. „To put it simply, I want to see your Unsullied. I heard they are very famous.“

Another man grunted. This one was very old and ugly.

„Do you hear that? She wants to buy our Unsullied! I wonder why?“

„My friend Grazdan asks why you have need of our Unsullied?“ the translator asked her.

„To win back my crown,“ she lied. „Why else?“

They all exchanged silent looks. She could read amusement on their faces. They trying to hide their mocking smiles.

„The whore cannot pay for them,“ the rude man from before snorted. „Look at her…she may dress in silks and bring us slaves, but that doesn’t change the fact that she is a whore.“

„Can you pay for them?“ the translator asked her again. „The Unsullied are worth a fortune.“

„I have three dragons,“ Dany offered overly friendly. „And I have need of only one.“

Within the blink of a moment, all of them had fallen silent.

The rude master from before lifted his gaze to the sky, his eyes narrowed as he took in Balerion’s glittering black wings.

Suddenly, the man changed his tune and a friendly smile was curling on his lips.

„I am Kraznys mo Nakloz,“ he introduced himself to her before turning back to the translator. „Tell her, that she is welcome to be my guest while she is pondering about buying our Unsullied.“

Dany tried not to show her obvious relief.

„Kraznys mo Nakloz is pleased by your answer,“ the translator replied. „And would be even more pleased to welcome you as his honored guest.“

Dany accepted his answer with a thankful nod.

She would not let this opportunity pass.

„I gladly agree to your offer, Kraznys mo Nakloz.“

…


	65. Sansa

**Sansa**

The last time Sansa had visited King’s Landing she had still been betrothed to Prince Joffrey but that felt now as if it had happened a lifetime ago. She could still recall how much she had wept after her father had sent her home. 

Now everything was different.

Her father had been banished to the Wall, her two younger brothers had been stolen away by Theon Greyjoy and Arya had run away from her betrothal with the Frey boy.

And there was also Jon, who had disappeared with a Targaryen Princess. It was almost like in a song.

The smell of shit entered her nose as they rode through the city. A large crowd had come out of their dwelling places to greet them. Everywhere she looked she saw children afoot. Everyone seemed in a festive mood.

Yet, that was not the only thing she noticed. No sign of the Lannisters could be seen anymore. Not much of the Baratheons either. The most dominant banner was House Tyrell. The golden rose could be found everywhere, even among the smallfolk.

Sansa even saw ladies and maids with golden flowers in their braids.

The old Sansa would have been delighted at such a display of affection by the smallfolk, but times have changed. She may be betrothed to Willas Tyrell, the brother-in-law to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but she knew better than to trust them.

Yet, it was the only way to bring House Stark and House Baratheon closer together.

Robb didn't seem happy to be here, but he had no other choice. If Robb had refused Renly there would have been war and he had already let his men bleed against the Lannisters.

Enough blood had been shed.

„Have you seen the flowers?“ Sansa asked her brother after they had been lead to the Maidenvault, where she would reside. „They are everywhere.“

Robb smiled and placed a kiss on her cheek. „It seems the golden flowers of House Tyrell have left their mark upon this city. Looking at these displays of loyalty one might think the Tyrells have taken the throne.“

„True,“ Sansa agreed and smiled at her brother. „I heard Queen Margaery is very beautiful. That probably helps.“

„I think it has more to do with the free bread and wine,“ Robb added and left her to her own devices.

Sansa was soon attended to by two ladies. She was allowed to take a bath and they had her dressed in a new gown she had been gifted by Queen Margaery. It was light blue with white trimmings and accompanied by a grey cloak made of white rabbit fur. She also asked one of the girls to add a hairnet.

She didn't know much of Lord Willas, only that he was fond of hawking and books. He was also a cripple and older than her. Well, at least he was no old man, and if he was as half as pretty as Queen Margaery Sansa would be happy with her lot.

„You look very beautiful, sister,“ Robb complimented her when he returned to her later. Her brother had groomed himself. His beard was shaved and he had donned grey-and-black finery. He looked like a fine lord, but still sad. Sansa couldn't blame him for being sad. He had not known Lady Roslin for long, but he must feel responsible for her early death. „I am sure Queen Margaery will be full of envy.“

„I rather have Lord Willas admire my dress,“ Sansa replied and took her brother’s arm. Then, they walked out to the corridor, where Robb's guardsmen waited for her. „It was after all the Queen’s gift.“

„I am sure he will,“ Robb assured her and patted her arm. "And it seems we will have to meet alone with the Queen. Lord Renly went hunting in the company of Uncle Edmure."

Not long after they were led into the Queen’s solar. It was a spacious room filled with light, a table, a long canopy, and a handful of chairs that were arranged around said table.

Servants stood at the entrance, two boys, all dressed in matching green doublets embroidered with golden roses.

The young Queen Margaery was a sight to behold and Sansa couldn’t help but feel a hint of jealousy rise up inside her heart. She was everything she had always wanted to be.

„Lord Stark,“ she greeted Robb with a warm smile that could have even melted the Wall. She wore a dream of golden brocade and her curled brown hair fell in one braid around her pale and naked shoulder while the rest was arranged around her head like a cake and decorated with all kinds of gemstones. Sansa could see an emerald, a sapphire, and a ruby. „Lady Sansa. It is wonderful to have you here.“

Sansa dropped a quick curtsy and Robb lowered his head.

„On the contrary, your grace,“ he said. „We are honored to be here, though I had hoped to find your husband with us.“

„Renly and your Uncle are surely enjoying themselves greatly,“ the Queen replied and waved her hand at the servant boys. „And told me to take care of you in the meantime. There is also my brother…Come along, Willas.“

She had turned around as she had said this. It was only then that Sansa noticed the anteroom behind the thick red curtains.

A moment later, a young man stepped forward. He was tall like Ser Loras, but his face was sharper and longer. It was a comely face framed by golden hair and his eyes had the same golden shade as Margaery Tyrell’s. His clothing was less impressive. He wore a doublet of green-and-gold, but not made of the same expensive cloth as his sister’s garb.

The young man was also using a stick to walk, though his leg was neither crooked nor ugly to behold. Just a little stiff and she could also see that it pained him when he lowered his head to greet her.

She felt no increase of her heartbeat nor a flutter in her stomach when she looked at this young lord, but that was perhaps just a result of her disappointment with Joffrey. The Tyrells might be nicer than the Lannisters, but even roses had thorns and she couldn’t allow herself to be blinded by their splendor.

„Come closer, Willas,“ Margaery urged her brother. „And take a look at your lovely bride.“

„I am pleased to meet you, my Lord Willas,“ Sansa replied and meant it. The young man returned her smile. He seemed shy, despite his age. „It was worth the long way.“

He blushed a little. „No, it was worth the effort to come here to see you, my lady. You are as beautiful as Renly told me.“

Sansa nodded her head and sat down at the table. Queen Margaery and her brother followed suit. Robb sat down across Lord Willas, eying the older man suspiciously.

Sansa would have laughed if this was not such a formal meeting.

„Do you care for wine, Lord Stark?“ Queen Margaery asked her brother and picked the silver flagon from the plate. It was unseemly, but she didn’t seem to care. „I love it. Arbor Gold, I mean. It’s the best kind of wine during these late summer days.“

Robb smiled. He seemed a bit flustered by the forward nature of his queen. „I would care for some wine.“

„And you, my lady?“ Lord Willas asked. „Do you care for wine as well?“

The old Sansa would have said yes, but Lady had died for her foolishness. „I do, but only water.“

„My cousin shall add some water then, my lady,“ Lord Willas instructed one of the younger boys. „I will make sure of it.“

Sansa thanked him for his kindness and took a sip while Robb continued exchanging pleasantries with the Queen.

„I wonder when Lord Renly wishes to see my sister and Lord Willas wed?“ Robb asked politely.

„Soon enough,“ Lady Margaery. „To show the unity of our alliances.“

„Sansa is still young,“ Robb countered. „I am fine with a marriage, but no consummation.“

„I have no intention of consummating the marriage if that is what you wish,“ Lord Willas promised without hesitation. „But you also have to understand my good-brother's reasoning, Lord Stark. Stannis is still alive and the Westerlands have yet to be brought back into the realm. There is still a long way ahead of Renly.“

„You are also referring to the North, are you not, my lord?“

„Of course,“ Lord Willas confirmed. „Especially, with dragons stirring in the east.“

Sansa believed she had misheard but when Robb repeated the question she knew that it had not just been a dream.

„Dragons?“

„Indeed,“ Queen Margaery replied. „They say dragons have returned to the world.“

Robb froze and looked over to Lord Willas. „Who says so?“

„Sailors,“ the Queen replied. „And Lord Varys. They also say these dragons killed an entire horde of Dothraki. I know it sounds like madness, but it seems your brother and his Princess have not been idle.“

Robb did not speak for a long time. Sansa could tell that he was very uncomfortable. „How is that even possible? There are no more dragon eggs.“

„Lord Varys believes they could have acquired them in the East,“ Lord Willas replied. „It is not impossible.“

„Whatever is true,“ Sansa said and pulled on Robb’s arm. „We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted. We must prepare a wedding.“

„So eager!“ Queen Margaery said in a delighted tone. „I will make sure that you have the finest of dresses, Lady Sansa.“

Sansa smiled, touched by the Queen’s kindness. At the same time, she worried about Robb, who still hadn’t spoken a single word.

„I thank you, your grace. That is most kind of you.“

„Lord Stark,“ Queen Margaery added in a sweet-natured tone, trying to coax her brother out of his deep thoughts. It was only Sansa’s touch on his arm that brought him back.

„Aye,“ Robb said and finally acknowledged Queen Margaery's presence. „Forgive me, my thoughts were somewhere else. I didn’t mean to appear impolite. Have I missed something?“

„Not much,“ Queen Margaery smiled warmly. „But you are excused, my lord. Surely, your mind is back in Winterfell with your brothers and the motherless babe you were forced to leave behind.“

Robb looked surprised by the acknowledgment of his loss. „Yes, my mind is with them. My brothers most of all, who are now in the hands of the Ironborn. Only the gods know what will happen to them.“

„Which makes it all the more important that we stand united,“ Lord Willas added. „King Robert was a valiant warrior, but a poor politician. He should have smashed the Ironborn in the Last Rebellion.“

„You are bolder than your quiet nature suggests, Lord Willas,“ Sansa complimented her future husband. „But surely Balon Greyjoy would have little use in harming Bran and Rickon? He is probably going to use them to put pressure on Robb to give him lands or other promises.“

„Well, whatever it is worth,“ Queen Margaery added and looked directly at Robb. „I am sure Lord Redwyne will gladly offer his fleet to strike down the Ironborn should they dare to harm your brothers, my Lord.“

Robb gave her a thankful smile. Sansa couldn’t help but notice that he looked smitten with the Queen, but then she was also a very beautiful woman.

And married.

„I thank you, your grace. Any help is welcome.“

„So, what do you think of her?“ Sansa asked Robb later as they were walking back to the Maidenvault. „And my future husband.“

„They are both very charming,“ Robb replied. „But I do not trust them.“

„And the tales about these dragons?“ Sansa asked and searched his face in the darkness. „What do you think of that?“

„Not much until we know more,“ Robb replied. „And while I love Jon, I also admit we need Renly and the Tyrells. We are playing a dangerous game.“

„Don’t worry,“ Sansa assured him gently. „You have me.“

Robb nodded his head and squeezed her arm affectionately. „I am also pleased to have you with me, Sansa, but it saddens me that I have to sell you to the Tyrells.“

Sansa chuckled. „At least Lord Willas is no Joffrey.“

Robb nodded his head in agreement. „That is true. He seems more the bookish sort. A vast improvement."

…


	66. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

Dany watched the city below from her balcony. The three dragons were flying circles over the bloody walls of Astapor while the glistening sun was disappearing behind the distant buildings.

Even from the distance, she could still feel the heat on her skin. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but she couldn’t help to feel uncomfortable in this city.

She had grown up in a fine pillow House in Volantis and had thus little in common with the slaves working out on the fields. No, these were well-fed and beautiful girls that served Ser Barristan a cool cup of wine every morning.

„The dragons do not like this place, your grace,“ Ser Barristan said beside her. He was towering over her, a giant clad in a white cloth and polished armor. „I hope we can leave soon.“

„First I must find Jon,“ Daenerys insisted and cast her gaze once more over the city. The maze of streets, houses, and towers spread as far as the eye could see. The fighting pits were the most impressive part of Astapor’s architecture and also the most disturbing. „And fast. Did you hear what they said? They spoke of some sort of bloody festival. That doesn’t sound good at all.“

„Certainly not,“ Ser Barristan agreed. „But it shouldn’t be so hard to find an Andal here. I doubt there are many of them.“

„True,“ Dany replied and turned back to Ser Barristan. „But he might have been sold to another city. We can never be sure. I also doubt our generous host will give us the answer we desire. Most of all, we must keep your true intentions hidden.“

„Certainly,“ Ser Barristan said and smiled. „Though I am no man for such mummeries.“

Dany couldn’t help but laugh. „And yet Jon told me that you once saved my father’s life by pulling off a mummery of your own?“

„The Defiance of Duskendale,“ Ser Barristan replied. „At times, I wonder if it was the right choice to make. Would our lives have been better for it if your father had died?“

„That's a silly question,“ Dany replied. „Because then neither I or Jon would exist.“

Ser Barristan paled. „I never considered it that way. Perhaps that is what life is like. All paths we have not taken are mere dreams.“

„You still feel guilty, don’t you?“ Dany asked the old night. „For serving the usurper.“

„And I am thankful that you did not kill me for it.“

Dany was always amused by the knight’s humility. „And I thank you for telling me all about my father. The good and the bad things.“

In that moment, Balerion landed atop the balcony. His heat was pleasant and Dany reached out her hand towards his head.

His skin felt even hotter and when the dragon gave a sorrowful shriek she knew he missed Aemon.

„Soon enough, we will leave this horrid place. In the meantime, you should make the best out of the fine supper you are being offered by these maesters.“

Balerion rose back into the sky, his black wings spread wide.

„Soon enough, they will be big enough for riding.“

„If they allow us to ride them,“ Dany replied and noticed that Kraznys was down in the courtyard and enjoying a cup of wine. He was always watching the dragons. „I should change into a finer dress. Kraznys always breaks his fast after sunset.“

„You should not touch any of the food unless he has tasted it as well,“ Ser Barristan told her. „You have no food taster after all.“

„I have not,“ Dany replied, a queasy feeling spreading in her stomach.“And I doubt he will kill me. He gains much more by making business with me. A coin is more important for these men than pride.“

Not long after, Larsha was helping her dress as Tito’s mother had shown her. Dany felt as uncomfortable as ever, but she forgot about all that when she laid eyes on a familiar face.

It belonged to a young woman that was slightly older than Dany. A face she hadn’t expected to find in these foreign lands.

„Doreah!“ Dany gasped when she laid eyes on the blue eyes of her old friend. "You are alive?“

„I watched you,“ her old friend said. „At first, I thought it was just imagining everything, but you are truly alive.“

„Yet you don’t look happy to see me,“ Dany couldn’t help but notice as she drew closer to embrace her old friend. Doreah allowed it but came straight to the point.

„I am a slave now…I was sold after you disappeared, but that is not the reason I am here. There are two slaves in this city who asked me to speak with the Dragon Queen.“

Dany’s heart nearly stopped.

„You spoke to Jon?“

„And his charming friend,“ Doreah added with a hesitant smile. „A Sheepman. I think he is called Tito!"

„Are they well?" Daenerys asked quickly. "Where are they?“

"Here,“ Doreah replied. „They are alive and as well as someone could be…and they told me to inform you about their survival. They are waiting for their instructions.“

Dany nodded her head, fresh determination replacing the fears that had been cageing her heart.

„First help me dress. I must speak to your master.“

Doreah nodded her head. „They say you want to buy the Unsullied.“

„I do,“ Dany replied. „But that is not the only reason I came here.“

„It is about this young man,“ Doreah realized. „The Andal or the Sheepman?“

„The Andal…Jon is his name. We are wed.“

Doreah couldn’t believe her ears. „They say you were sold as a slave. The Triarch threw Lady Lynesse out when he heard of what had happened to you. He had the entire city searched, but found no sign of you.“

„I was sold to a man from Westeros. That’s where I met Jon.“

„And found out that you are a Targaryen? Is that a secret you hid all these years? “

„I didn’t know,“ Dany told Doreah and kissed her cheek. „Now I know who I am…Princess Daenerys Targaryen. Do you mind?“

Doreah shook her head. „No, but I must warn you. This place is dangerous.“

„I am well aware what kind of a place this is,“ Dany replied. „And I know what your master wants. Now, go back to Jon and tell him that I am well.“

Doreah nodded her head and left them soon after.

And as if conjured by some invisible spell one of Kraznys pretty boys appeared to call her for supper.

„The Master asks for your presence, your grace.“

Krazny’s greeted her in a large chamber made of red stone. There was a low-set table and he was seated atop a cushioned seat that was slightly elevated above everyone else. His wife was also there, seated beside him, her eyes dark like the midnight sun. Kraznys did not even look at her as he dipped a date into a bowl filled with honey and placed it into his mouth.

The honey ran down his chin and he gave Dany one of his feigned smiles.

„Please, your grace. Sit down,“ the girl beneath his feat instructed her.

He had pointed at a cushioned seat across for him. She had copper skin and dark hair that curled around her head. She wore a beautiful golden collar around her neck and she didn't look much older than ten or twelve years of age.

She was seated below Krazny’s feet and eating from a golden bowl filled with red cherries.

„Master Kraznys is most pleased to have you here,“ the girl told her.

While Dany sat down cross-legged upon her cushioned seat a boy brought her a golden plate with roasted puppies.

„You should taste them while they are still warm,“ the girl instructed again, translating what Kraznys was saying.

Dany took a bite but was more pleased to receive a cup of wine.

The wine was sweet, but the sight of Kraznys before made it difficult to concentrate on anything other than his massive breasts. They were larger than hers.

„The Master hopes you enjoy the wine. It's from your homeland. Arbor gold.“

Dany forced a smile over her lips and took another sip. „I am delighted.“

Kraznys smiled at her answer and nodded his head in approval. „And the master is pleased that you chose to stay in his home. You won’t regret buying our Unsullied. They are the best.“

Dany had no doubt about that.

„I cannot make such a decision lightly,“ Dany replied. „I have not even seen what they can do.“

Kraznys nodded his head. „Tell the whore that I shall satisfy her curiosity on the morrow.“

„The Master said he would be pleased to show you his Unsullied,“ the girl translated.

Kraznys waved his hand at the young translator.

„And if the whore cares I could also show her the rest of the city. The fighting pits are known for their brave warriors and soon enough our city will be overflowing with their blood.“

„The master says he thinks you might enjoy a visit to one of his fighting pits.“

 _I will like to see you die_ , Dany thought but kept these thoughts to herself _. Soon this city will be overflowing with your blood._

Dany knew that his offer was the best way to find Jon.

Kraznys grinned after he bit off the head of a puppy.

„So, what does the whore say?“ he demanded of his little translator.“I want to hear her answer?“

Dany exhaled deeply and gave her answer. „I would be pleased to see your master's fighting pits.“

…


	67. Arianne

**Arianne**

Arianne felt the heat burning on her skin. The midday sun was burning down on them, but the trees provided her with a pleasant shade.

She felt incredibly lazy these days, though her mind was running wild with fears when her Lord Father had announced to her that Quentyn would be soon visiting them in Sunspear.

She hadn’t seen her little brother in many years and while she held affection for him, she didn’t quite like the idea of having him visit.

Arianne did trust him or the Yronwoods. That her Lord Father was constantly hiding matters from her didn’t make the current situation any easier to bear.

„You should get up one of these days, cousin,“ Obara said behind her. "You are getting lazy."

Arianne giggled and rolled unto her stomach, her naked feet dangling behind her. "I told you not to frighten me so, Obara!“

"She is not alone,“ Tyene added, her pale Speta robes fluttering behind her before she sat down beside Arianne. "I am also here, cousin.“

„And me,“ Nym added, her dark eyes blazing like the sizzling coals of a brazier. „Something is going on. Your Lord Father is returning from the Water Gardens.“

Arianne nodded her head and sat up. She quickly slipped her naked feet into her gilded slippers and gathered her shawl around her neck.

„I know all of it. My Lord Father informed me about Quentyn’s coming. He should be here by late evening.“

„I wonder if our dear cousin is still the same weepy boy,“ Obara jested.

„Frog face won’t be a danger to us,“ Arianne added jestingly. „But I do not trust these Yronwoods.“

„Neither does our father,“ Nym added. „We have to be careful.“

„Indeed,“ Arianne agreed and led them back into the palace. None of the servants were in a hurry. They had prepared well or better said Arianne had prepared well for their visitors. „But I am sure my Lord Father will do more than that. King Renly is now King and the Lannisters have been squashed by the Stark boy. They also speak of dragons rising in the east.“

Obara grinned. „And you believe that?“

Arianne shrugged her shoulders. „I do not know what to think.“

„Well, I wouldn’t mind seeing a dragon,“ Tyene added with a smile.

„Me either,“ Nym added and grinned when she saw her two younger sisters seated in the fountain, splashing water at each other. „But is anyone really happy about King Renly’s victory? He might not be a Lannister, but he is wed to the Fat Flower’s daughter and Robert Baratheon made use of Aegon's and Rhaenys'deaths nor did he ever lift a single finger to avenge our aunt Elia. Neither he nor Renly deserve the crown.“

„No Baratheon deserves the crown,“ Obara snorted. „Even father thinks so, though he is fond of the Princess Myrcella.“

„You mean Myrcella Waters?“ Tyene asked. „She is of no higher position than us.“

„She is not,“ Arianne agreed. „But I know that King Renly sent father a raven, offering the Mountain’s skull in exchange for his niece.“

They stared at her in shock.

„What did he answer?“

„He refused. The girl is much more useful to us than some ugly skull.“

„She certainly is,“ Obara agreed and would have probably said more, but Lady Ellaria interrupted their exchange.

„You three should wash and change your garb,“ she chided them. „It's not every day, that you see your cousin Prince Quentyn. He will leave soon.“

Arianne and her cousins exchanged knowing looks.

„Certainly, my lady,“ Obara replied and left in the company of her sisters.

It was close to nightfall when her Lord Father arrived in Sunspear in the company of her brother Quentyn and Lord Yronwood’s heir and son.

He was as cocky as ever and appraised Arianne’s form hungrily. For a time, she had hoped to wed him, but as always her father had refused such a match.

„You are as pretty as ever, Princess Arianne,“ he complimented her and kissed her hand. „Your gowns never leave anything for imagination.“

„I would never dare,“ Arianne chirped but felt nothing but mistrust for the young man.

Quentyn was not as forward. He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and stuttered his way through the rest of the evening.

They ate and drank and exchanged tales. By the hour of the wolf, they were all very much drunk beside her brother Quentyn and her uncle Doran.

„Will you tell us why you called us here, father?“ Arianne asked at last.

Her Lord Father smiled calmly and jerked his head at Oberyn.

„Forgive me, for keeping secrets from you, dear niece,“ her uncle said and grinned. „ Well, now that another Baratheon has taken the crown it is more than ever important that we keep matters hidden from the Spider's watchful eyes.“

„Tell us, already.“

„Isn’t it obvious, sister?“ Quentyn asked. „Uncle Oberyn and I will soon travel to Essos to find Princess Daenerys Targaryen.“

Arianne should be more baffled, but she was not.

„If it is no ruse,“ Arianne countered. „I think it's more the tales of dragons that draw you to the east, isn’t that so?“

„Not just that,“ Uncle Oberyn added. „Your brother will marry the girl if she is disposed to agree. It would be the best chance to remove the Baratheons. By putting a Martell on the throne.“

Lady Ellaria didn’t look pleased with the idea. „The Mountain is dead and your sister has been avenged. I think you are just angry that it was done by the Stark boy’s hands instead of your own. And now you are chasing another enemy. I do not like this, Oberyn.“

„My sister is not avenged until Renly has been chased away from the throne. He and his brothers all benefitted from Elia’s death.“

„Renly was a young boy,“ Ellaria pointed out. "Where will your lust for revenge end?"

Her uncle ignored her.

„Whatever,“ he said and balled his hand to a fist. „It is only a matter of time until these dragons return to Westeros and by then we should have chosen an allegiance.“

„I agree,“ her father agreed. „And it will be for the benefit of all of us. Quentyn will be a worthy King consort to Princess Daenerys and you will be the Princess of Dorne.“

Arianne should be relieved, but she wasn’t. There was always a disadvantage to be considered.

„Yet, I am still not wed.“

„You are going to be wed in the matter of a week turn, dear daughter,“ her father promised her with a smile.

Arianne was shocked and looked around. When she saw Yronwood’s grinning face she knew what her father was trying to say.

„No…I won’t.“

„You will,“ her father said gently. „Lord Yronwood will make a fine match for you.“

Arianne gritted her teeth. She wanted to refuse, but then wasn’t that what she had always hoped for?“

A husband.

Even if she mistrusted him.

Thus, she forced a smile over her lips and accepted her fate. For the time being. „I understand, father.“

…


	68. Daenerys

**Daenerys**

The blood of a thousand slaves.

That was the fundament Astapor had been built on or at least that was what Dany had once read in a book in her Mistress’ possession. Seeing these bloody walls with her own eyes it was no longer a surprise to her that Astapor was known as the Red City.

Yet. this was only the beginning. Everything in this city was geared towards the business of slavery. There was the Plaza of Punishment where the fresh slaves were brought first to lay eyes on those who had been daring enough to disobey their masters.

Truly, it was a grizzly welcome.

The numerous fighting pits were another attraction Astapor was known for. Dany counted more than fifty, all named in honour of their owners, residing up in the pyramids with their green gardens and colourful terraces.

The hostile looks following them at every step didn’t escape her. They were playing a mummery, but everyone here knew who she claimed to be: the returned Princess, Daenerys Targaryen, who defeated two Dothraki hordes and claimed Lhazar as her own. The Dragon Queen, she dared to call herself, though she felt more like the slaves watching her with wide eyes.

Dany was riding on a horse, her dress in place and the slim silver crown resting atop her head. Ser Barristan was riding beside her. He still wore his old armour, but he chose to drape a white cloak over his shoulder.

She exhaled deeply and tried to recall what Tito’s mother had told her.

_To act a queen you need to think of others as the dirt beneath your feet. Don’t hide away and don’t hesitate to look in their eyes._

Once the procession had arrived at a large plaza, where a good hundred Unsullied stood in perfect lines.

Kraznys had been carried there by a good dozen of slaves, cushioned atop his litter like a spoiled prince or princess.

Missandei, who had walked all the way beside his litter, spoke for her master, though Dany understood every word of his rude speech.

„Tell the whore, that I kept my promise,“ he told the girl. „Tell, her to take a look at my precious Unsullied.“

As promised, the girl relayed his answer.

Dany smiled in turn and took a glance at the Unsullied.

Dany had seen all kind of warriors and sellswords in her time in Volantis, but these Unsullied were different. They stood perfectly straight, their empty eyes blind to the world around them. Their gaze was odd, but the same could be said about their garb. They wore nothing but white-linen clouts wound around their loins and bronze helms topped with sharpened spikes.

“I heard only praise about the Unsullied,” Dany said. ”But I need to hear more before I can make a decision.”

Kraznys' large breasts jutted with every movement of his body as his young translator relayed Dany’ answer.

Kraznys waved his whip and a group of Unsullied stepped forward.

They moved as precise as a machine.

Dany shuddered. Nothing was human about them. Even their bodies looked like carved from stone.

“Educate the whore about their accomplishments,” he told his young translator.

 _Stone men_ , Daenerys wanted to call them. _The Good Masters turned thousands of men into stone men._

“They are chosen young…for size and speed and strength,” the young girl explained. ”Every day, from dawn to dusk, they train with the short sword, the shield and the spear. Their training is more than rigorous…only one boy in three survives. This is well known among the Unsullied and it is said that the worst is done on the day they earn their spiked cap, for no fight will ever prove as hard as their training…”

All the while Kraznys continued to bob his head like one of those pet dogs the noble ladies of Volantis liked to keep as their companions.

“These Unsullied have been standing here all day and without receiving food or water. They would endure until their last breath. This great is the courage of the Unsullied.”

“Obedience is no courage,” Ser Barristan said in a challenging tone. Dany was surprised by his action, but not displeased. It gave her courage. ”Even sheep know obedience.”

“Who is that?” Kraznys snapped at his young translator. ”Tell the whore what the Unsullied can do!”

“Good Master Kraznys says that these sheep would spill the blood of every know fighter in the Seven Kingdoms,” the girl relayed her master’s words as Dany shifted her attention back to the unmoving stone men.

Many of them sported the copper skin and the almond-shaped eyes common to Lhazar, but she also saw pale-skinned men from Lys, sun-kissed men from Norvos and many more hailing from all over Essos. Some men were tall and some were short, ranging from fourteen to twenty, yet all of them exhibited the same empty expression.

Not only that. Tito had told her that all Unsullied are cut like the eunuchs serving in the God-Emperor’s harem.

“Why do you need to cut them?” Dany inquired, unable to hide her curiosity. She wanted to know why men need to lose their cocks to be worthy warriors. I made no sense to her.

Kraznys smiled and growled his reply at his young translator.

“One of the Unsullied may not rival the strength of your knights, but the Unsullied have something far more precious…discipline.”

“They also say the Unsullied know no fear of death,” Ser Barristan added calmly. The young girl translated his words to her master, who grimaced in displeasure.

“Tell the whore, that she should silence her subordinates. And make clear to her that the Unsullied are not common men.”

“You heard right,” the young girl answered obediently. ”The Unsullied are not like common men…they fear neither death nor pain…Behold their discipline with your own eyes!”

Then, Kraznys snapped his whip across the neck of a young man.

Dany was speechless. The young man didn’t even flinch as the blood trickled down his neck like a river of crimson.

Kraznys lifted his whip once more, but Dany shook her head, though she tried to appear unaffected by this grizzly spectacle.

“I saw enough,” she declared in thick voice gave the man in front of her a piercing look. ”I believe you. Do not damage your valuable men for the sake of pride.”

“Did I insult the whore’s weeping heart?” Kraznys asked in a mocking tone and spit on the ground not far from her feet. ”Tell her this: The Unsullied have no need for courage when they have discipline honed by years of training. Tell her how it is achieved.”

“Master Kraznys says that you beheld the true strength of the Unsullied,” the young girl continued to translate. ”It is the wine of courage that grants this gift. They drink it with every meal and with every passing year they feel less pain. It is even impossible to torture them. None of your secrets shall leave their lips.”

Dany gave a hesitant nod. She felt only disgust and Ser Barristan seemed to share her feelings. He frowned deeply and his gloved hand twitched anxiously over the pommel of his sword.

Only Kraznys seemed amused and looked as if he won a great victory.

“Tell the whore that not even her pretty pink nipples would tempt the Unsullied,” he added mockingly.

Daenerys sighed and gathered her courage.

“Master Kraznys says that no woman, no matter how beautiful, can tempt an Unsullied. They are as pure as a newborn babe. They don’t even have proper names.”

Master Kraznys nodded his head and pointed his whip at a small bronze disk placed on the sword belts carried by each Unsullied warrior.

“There is his name,” the young girl explained. ”This one’s named Grey Mouse, but tomorrow he will go by another name.”

Dany nodded her head and tried to understand the need for such nonsense.

“How are they able to remember all these names?” she asked the young girl, who quickly relayed her Master’s boasting answer.

“Those who are not able to are punished…they have to climb a mountain, endure the pains of a whip or even slay an infant.”

She froze.

“Why is it necessary to slay infants?”

“To win his spiked cap a recruit has to go to the slave market, find a newborn babe and slay it before its mother’s eye. This way we are able to weed out the weak ones.”

A feeling of sickness washed over her and Dany bit her lips.

She had heard quite enough.

“I think I have heard enough. I understand their value,” Dany replied with suppressed anger and forced herself to look at Kraznys.

The Master bowed his head and a smile of satisfaction washed over his lips.

“Ask the whore how many Unsullied she wants to buy,” he told the young girl.

“My Master wants to know how many Unsullied you intend to buy?”

“How many do you intend to sell?” Dany countered quickly.

“Eight-thousand fully trained Unsullied are available,” the young girl answered. ”Consider quickly, for there are many more who wish to buy them.”

Daenerys didn’t doubt his words, but she also read greed on his face. She knew he wanted one of the dragons. Desperately so.

“I heard you,” Daenerys confirmed, trying to appear prideful and queenly. ”Give me a handful of days to consider. In the meantime...Well, you promised to show me your fighting pits…perhaps I would be interested in buy some your brave warriors.“

Kraznys nodded his head in understanding.

“Tell the whore, that she is welcome to buy my brave warriors. Perhaps she might even want to see them compete in the pits. You will show her everything."

„The Master would be pleased to sell you some of his brave warriors," the girl replied. "Let me; show you the way."

…


	69. Ned

**Ned**

Around him was only darkness and he felt the exhaustion deep in his bones. He had barely survived his encounter with this strange creature of ice. He still recalled its sharp blue eyes piercing him through the darkness.

 _The Others bring death and winter with them wherever they go_ , the man who had saved him had told him not long ago. He had not given his name, but Ned was nonetheless thankful for his help.

“You must eat,” told him this strange girl with large gold-green and almond-shaped eyes. “Or you will die.”

Ned did as he was bid and shuffled the bitter acorn paste in his mouth. In truth, he was very hungry, but the soup was hard to digest. He longed for something simple like broth or even this disgusting stew they served at Castle Black.

Yet, he still ate, filling his empty stomach. He had always wondered how Stannis Baratheon managed to eat rats. Now he knew. A man with an empty stomach did not care what he puts into his mouth.

When he had finished his meal, another child appeared, carrying a burning torch to lighten the darkness of the round chamber that had served as his sleeping place.

These Children of the Forest had not only fed him and given him shelter but they had also taken care of his wounds.

“The Three-Eyed-Crow will see you now,” the other child announced. “Come with me, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.”

Ned was stunned.

“You know my name?”

“The Three-Eyed-Crow told us about your arrival,” the child said quickly and led him along a narrow corridor. Along the way, Ned nearly stumbled over a large root jutting out through the ground. “He knows many things.”

Ned nodded his head and banished away his fears. Whoever this Three-Eyed-Crow was he couldn’t be so bad. He had saved his life.

“I shall be pleased to meet him,” Ned said and continued to follow after the child. As he passed the walls he saw that they were made of thick tree roots and earth.

The roots of the tree were white as snow, twisting through the earth wall and deeper into the ground.

 _This must be a weirwood tree_ , Ned mused as they entered next chamber.

He stopped when he heard a crunching sound beneath his feet. And when he cast his eyes to the ground he saw pieces of bones littered all over the ground.

Some looked as if they belonged to animals and others looked as if they had once belonged to humans.

Ned froze.

_What place is this?_

What followed was a steep trail and it took all of Ned’s concentration to avoid falling into the dark abyss spreading below him.

He only felt relief when he finally reached the other side.

“Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell!” the child announced his presence like a herald, the words echoing back at him through the cavernous room.

“Welcome…,” a thin and dry voice aroused his attention. It belonged to a pale man, seated in a tangled nest of roots. The sight of him made Ned shiver. His body looked like a skeleton and his rotten clothes gave him the appearance of a living corpse. "The hour is late, but you are very welcome, Lord Stark.”

Ned didn’t know what to make of this strange man but lowered his head in greeting.

“Who are you? How do you know my name?”

“I have watched you…Eddard Stark,” the old man replied. “You were born the second son, but fate decided that you became the Lord of Winterfell. I must also thank you for protecting my blood.”

Ned was utterly confused.

“Your blood?”

“In my time they called me Bloodraven…for the bloody mark on my face. I was brother to a King, a kingslayer, a wizard and later I became Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. The boy named Jon Snow is my blood through his father Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.”

It was impossible.

“You must be more than a hundred years old, my lord,” Ned stuttered. “Or I am going mad…”

The old man chuckled.

“You are not mad, Lord Stark. I am very old, but you have seen much stranger things beyond the wall, have you? The Others are on the march and the Wildlings are desperate to escape them. Someone has to help them and warn the Night’s Watch of the coming danger. I have watched you…I know you will do your duty as you have always done.”

Ned was not convinced.

“How? I have barely survived my last encounter…If you know a way to defeat them you need to tell me…,” Ned continued, but the old man cut him off.

“The Others fear the sun, fire, and dragon glass. Currently, they are not able to cross the Wall, but the day will come when the spells woven into these ancient walls will lose their power.

“Dragonglass?” Ned inquired. “I have never heard of such a substance…”

“Obsidian or frozen fire,” the old man explained. “My children will provide you with weapons made from this material. Once you return to Castle Black you should scour the vaults…there you will find accounts on dragon glass. The Citadel also has a vast amount of information on this topic, among them maps detailing where this dragon glass can be harvested. Dragonstone is such a place, but there are others…”

Ned had a hard time digesting all this new information.

“I will keep that in mind,” he said at last and exhaled deeply. “What now?”

“You will leave today to fulfill your task,” the old man explained cryptically. “One of my children will lead you back to the Wall, but before you go…I have a gift for you…or better said for your nephew…the boy named Jon Snow. The day will come when he returns and will have need of this weapon.”

Ned nodded his head and felt a hint of relief when he heard about Jon’s potential return. There was so much they needed to speak about. _That is if I survive that long._

Promptly, the children came forward and presented a sword to him.

“Take a look at it, my Lord,” Bloodraven prodded gently. “It’s a beautiful sword.”

And it was beautiful. As Ned freed the blade from its’ dusty scabbard he found an unblemished smoky surface. Valyrian steel, he knew at once, and lifted his head to meet the old man’s single red eye.

“That’s Dark Sister…a blade once wielded by Queen Visenya Targaryen and later Ser Aemon the Dragonknight.”

...


	70. Jon

**Jon**

Jon had recognized Dany immediately, though she looked so very different now.

She did not longer wear the woolen dress she had made herself but was glad in fine silk and a tokar. Only her silver hair, which had grown by several inches, and her deep violet eyes were still the same.

He had known that Dany had made it here. Doreah had told him and Tito so much, but seeing her with his own eyes was different.

He felt the urge to run to her, but at the same time, he wished he could shout at her to leave this horrible place behind her and never look back.

But he knew that not possible. Dany had started the game when she had come here and backing out of it was no longer possible.

Kraznys the cunt had lined up of his pit fighters as if he was a king received by his court. And perhaps that was the right kind of way of looking at it, for he held indeed the power of a king.

He could have everyone here die at his whim.

It was disgusting to think like that.

And it made Jon hate the man even more for it.

„It seems what Doreah has told us is true,“ Tito whispered into his ear. „Daenerys came to help us.“

Jon silenced him with a shove in the side. Tito was his friend, but he spoke too much.

His gaze followed Dany all the way down from the other side of the chamber. The bragging master had a young girl translate everything to Dany, though the girl was clearly softening the rude curses he was using in a rather repeated manner.

Jon could only bits and pieces, but he was familiar with the world dragon whore both in the Common Tongue and High Valyrian.

When Dany answered in the Common Tongue he finally realized what kind of game she was playing.

She was trying to fool the Master. It was clever but dangerous at the same time. The slavers were sly folk but also blinded by their own pride.

Softly, their voices echoed off the halls, as Dany finally reached the last rows, where the new recruits were kept.

Jon tried to keep an impassive face, but inside his chest, his heart was racing away wildly.

„These two are new,“ the girl translated for her master. „The pale one is from Westeros, a rare thing and the other one is a mongrel of a sheep man. No one is quite sure, for he also shows a certain similarity of the folk of Yi Ti. Well, both have yet to receive their proper name…that is they survive their first bloodletting.“

Dany paled visibly at the mention of the term „Bloodletting.“What does that mean?“

The master’s answer came quickly enough.

„It is the first battle every pit fighter must survive,“ the young girl explained. „A test of strength. The name a pit fighter earns in his first fight will stick with him forever.“

Dany swallowed had turned her head. It was in that moment, that their gaze met.

It was only briefly, but it left him anxious. He also quickly lowered his gaze on the ground to avoid arousing more suspicions.

„I have never met a Westerosi so far in the East,“ Dany mused, her gaze resting half on Jon and half on the girl. „Where did you find him?“

Kraznys shrugged his shoulders. „ The Dothraki captured him and some others. They are a disgusting breed of creatures, but they are always useful to bring us fresh meat.

Dany nodded her head and glanced at him again. He knew she wanted to say much more, but she couldn’t.

Biting her lip, she looked back at Kraznys and then at the young girl. „Would you mind if I could take him to my bed?“

If the girl was embarrassed by Dany’s demand it didn’t show on her face. Dany on the other hand looked as if she was on the verge of betraying her true thoughts.

Kraznys simply grinned. He was rubbing his hands together and jerked his head at Jon.

„Tell, the whore she can have him, but if she wants a good ride I could provide her with better men."

The girl nodded her head, her cheeks not even flushed. „The master says you can borrow him for the evening.“

Jon exhaled deeply when they brought him up to one of the upper compartments. There he had proper light and could finally breathe some fresh air.

Dany joined him not long after, but even after they had closed the door behind them, he did not dare to speak or move.

He was afraid the walls could have ears or eyes.

„You are alive,“ Dany said in obvious relief and bridged the distance. She quickly rose unto her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek before cradling his face between her small hands. „I am so glad.“

„I am not so easily killed,“ he assured her and brushed his hand through her hair. It was soft like silk. „But you are just as foolish…coming here.“

Dany laughed. „Says the one who rode off to take on a horde of Dothraki.“

„They killed many of us…but Jory and the other are still alive,“ Jon replied. „They are in another pit. We have to save them.“

Dany smiled, the circlet resting atop her head nearly falling down.

Jon caught it in time and took a glance at it. „Since when are you wearing crowns?“

„It's part of the mummery,“ she replied and eyed his shoulder with an expression of worry. „Does it hurt?“

Jon nodded his head. „Not that much anymore, but I would prefer to leave this place as soon as possible.“

„You shall,“ Dany promised and wrapped her hand around the good shoulder. „I shall free everyone in this city.“

Jon gasped in disbelief.

„What are you saying? How would you do that? Do you have some magic jar to bring forth armies?“

Dany giggled softly and covered her mouth as if to hide her true intentions.

„No,“ she replied. „Well, I have the Sheepmen, our three dragons, and Ser Barristan, but the real army can already be found here in this city. The Unsullied.“

Jon finally understood the need for her mummery.

„You are pretending to buy the Unsullied, aren’t you?“

Dany nodded her head and pressed her lips to his cheeks once more.

„And what did you promise in return?“ he asked.

Dany grew more serious. „One of our dragons. Kraznys thinks he will obey him.“

Jon could not help to hide his mirth. He hated Kraznys and every slaver in this city for what he had seen in the short time he had resided here.

Men and boys being treated like animals, women being raped and abused as if they were nothing more than a hole to put their cock into, and all of that covered with splendor and a hint of nobility to make the like of Kraznys feel better about themselves.

„But how?“ Jon asked. „How will you make the Unsullied follow you?“

Dany smiled. „Kraznys has a whip…that’s how he controls them. They will obey. They are barely human.“

Jon had seen them train only briefly, but they truly were unlike anything he had ever seen before.

„The boys…they took them,“ Jon replied.

Dany swallowed hard. „I promised Tito’s father to bring them back…no matter how damaged.“

Jon gritted his teeth and balled his hand to a fist „Makes me glad I am older…and it makes me glad that I will soon be able to kill them all. When, will you strike?“

Dany let go of his shoulder and sat down on the cushions placed over the mattress that was spread over the floor.

„On the day of the bloody festival…Kraznys' little voice Missandei told me that nobility will drink, whore, and not spend a single hour in their beds before enjoying the first pit fight of the next day. The city is already bustling with visitors…the chaos will give us the advantage of surprise.“

It was no bad idea. „But you can not know that this will work. Let me help…we could inform some of the other slaves…most of them are not happy to remain pit fighters.“

„But not all of them can be trusted,“ Jon added. „One slip of a tongue and your plan could be for nothing. You also have to think of Aemon.“

„Aemon is safe with Tito’s mother,“ Dany assured him. „And it will work…it has to work.“

Jon sighed in relief to hear that Aemon was safe, but that couldn’t completely remove the fear in his heart.

„Well,“ Jon replied and laughed as she settled down on his lap, her hands brushing carefully through his sweaty and untidy hair. „It is the only thing we can hope for…“ he trailed off as she leaned down to kiss him softly, parting his lips and slipping her tongue into his mouth.

She tasted sweet, but this place did not really lend to the mood.

He pulled away.

„Do you really think this is a good idea?“

Dany laughed and pulled her arm around his good shoulder to pull him closer.

As soon as her lips touched his, the heat melted away all his doubts and fears…

…


	71. Asha

**Asha**

Word had been spread from Pyke to Harlaw, from Old Wyk to the Saltcliffe, calling all the captains to a Kingsmoot. The tidings of their father’s death had been surprising, but the reappearance of their Uncle Euron had been an even greater surprise. Many had believed him dead and gone, swallowed by the dark sea, but it seemed even the sea had no use for her Uncle.

_What is dead may never die, but rises again, stronger and stronger_ , she reminded herself and watched the rising and falling of the waves. The dusty grey clouds dotting the horizon promised a storm.

Not that she cared. She had sailed on ships since she could walk and had commanded her own ship before she had bled. She had killed and butchered men twice her size, she had fucked and drowned herself in wine, but all this meant nothing to her father’s men. For them only counted what she lacked: a big fat cock.

_Faster_ , she cursed the snapping sails. The wind had been strong, but her heart was already in Old Wyk, where the Kingsmoot would be held. _Faster._

_Faster_ , she cursed again and took a swig from a bottle of sour grog. It burned on her lips, but it was not enough to ease the anger raging inside her chest.

All that was left to her was the Kingsmoot, to stake her brother’s claim, the brother that had been stolen away as a young babe and would no return from his raid to the North like a victor.

As promised, he had brought them the Stark boys. The boys were down below, one a cripple and the other a wild little beast that had nearly bitten off Asha’s fingers. They had to tie him up or he might have even jumped into the sea and drowned.

She knew she should be happy for Theon, but she couldn’t help but feel jealous. She had spent all her life trying to prove herself as a true Ironborn man…

Feeling rather weary, from her watch she drowned the last bit of grog and returned to her cabin. The grog helped her sleep, but not long after sunset, she was woken by one of her men, who informed her that they had finally arrived at Old Wyk.

Wasting no further time, Asha dressed and stepped on deck, her gaze sweeping over the familiar landscape of Old Wyk.

It was an ugly landscape of windy hills and black mountains that presented itself to her, but this was also the holiest of all the Iron Islands. It was here where the legendary Grey King slew the sea dragon Nagga and it was here where the First Men found the Seastone Chair. For thousands of years, the Kingsmoots were held at Nagga’s hill, going all the way back to the crowning of Urras Greyiron.

Nagga’s hill stood on the crown of a hill, where four-and-forty monstrous stone ribs were rising from the earth like the trunks of great pale trees. Nagga had been the first sea dragon, the mightiest ever to rise from the waves. Said beast fed on krakens and leviathans alike and drowned whole islands until the Grey King slew her. The Drowned God changed her bones to stone so that men coming here might never cease to wonder at the courage of the first of Kings ruling the seas. For a thousand years and seven, the Grey King had reigned here, had taken a mermaid as his wife, and had planned countless wars against the Storm God. From here he had ruled both stone and salt, wearing robes of woven seaweed and a tall pale crown made from Nagga’s teeth…

As a child, she had eagerly listened to these tales, but this had been in the dawn of days when mighty men still dwelt on earth and sea, but these days were long gone and forgotten.

No, it was a fruitless endeavor to lose oneself to tales of glory.

_Fuck the Grey King. Fuck Nagga. Fuck the damn Storm God and most of all… fuck the Crow’s Eye. May the mermaids take them._

She had not spoken these words out loud, but they gave her comfort as she climbed the stony hilltop. Behind her rose the howling hills of Old Wyk, black and jagged mountains cast against the blue sea.

Soon she was greeted by the first banners. She beheld the silverfish of Botley, the bloody moon of Wynch, the dark green trees of Orkwood. She saw warhorns, leviathans, scythes, and the golden Kraken of House Greyjoy.

She also heard clattering sound, brought forth by her Uncle’s drowned men, who had taken up driftwood cudgels and were beating them one against the other as they walked up and down the hill. Others joined them soon. Ketteldrums were beaten and a warhorn was sounded, rolling in her ears like thunder.

The men of the Iron Islands had left their fires and were slowly streaming towards the bones of the Grey King’s hall, among them men of all stations: oarsmen, steersmen, sailmakers, warriors armed with axes, and fishermen with their nets. Others, who had been weakened by the green lands were attended to by their masters and knights.

The common men assembled around the base of the knoll while the captains made their way up the slopes of the hill, among them the ever cheerful Sigfry Stonetree, Andrik the Unsmiling, Ser Harras Harlaw, Lord Baelor Blacktyde, and her Uncle Victarion, who loomed above them like a giant.

As always, her Uncle Victarion was garbed in full armor, his Kraken cloak fluttering around his shoulders and his dark eyes were fixed on her Uncle Aeron, who raised his bony hands to silence the song of the kettledrums and warhorns. Soon only the sound of the waves pounding against the black stones remained, a roar, not even her Uncle could silence.

Theon and Asha had joined at last and were watched with great curiosity, but until Aegon finally began to speak, speaking his prayers to the gods.

“We were born from the sea and to the sea, we all return,” Her Uncle Aeron declared. “The Storm God in his wrath plucked Balon from his castle and cast him down, yet now he feasts beneath the waves in the Drowned God’s halls.”

Then, lifted his eyes to the sky, his dirty hair streaming around his shoulders like seaweed. “Balon is dead! The Iron King is dead!”

“The King is dead!” the men’s shouts echoed in her ears.

“Yet what is dead may never die, but rises again, harder and stronger!” her Uncle Aeron said and raised his voice. “Balon has fallen, Balon my brother, who honored the old way and paid the iron price. Balon the Brave, Balon the Blessed, who tried to win us back our freedoms and our god. Balon is dead…but a King shall rise again, to sit upon the Seastone Chair and rule the Iron Islands.”

“A King shall rise!” the men’s shouts echoed in her ears. “He shall rise!”

“He shall…He must!” her Uncle Aeron shouted, his voice like rolling thunder. “But who? Who shall sit in Balon’s place? Is he here among us?” he asked and spread his hands wide. “Who shall rule over us?”

Slowly, the crowd began to stir, like men waking from a long and pleasant dream. Each gaped at each other, to see which of them would be daring enough to claim the crown.

Asha stared at them in silence, her gaze flickering to the Uncle she feared the most, Euron also commonly called the Crow’s Eye. He stood there like a statute of sandstone, surrounded by his mutes and monsters.

He remained silent and watched. In truth, nobody had answered her Uncle’s call, but the seagulls, circling the stormy sky above.

“The Ironborn must have a King!” her Uncle Aeron repeated. “I ask again. Who shall be our King?”

Then, Asha turned to look at Theon, but he made no attempt to move. It seemed he had learned some humility from their father’s harsh rebuke and kept his cards to himself.

“I will,” someone finally answered and his words were prompted by a ragged cry of “Glybert! Gylbert King!”

As was the custom, the captains allowed the claimant and his champions to ascend the hill, to stand at her Uncle Aeron’s side beneath the ribs of Nagga.

This claimant was a tall lord with a melancholic visage and a clean-shaven jaw. His three champions took up their position below him, carrying his sword, shield, and banner. They looked confident, but that was no surprise. These men were the claimant’s brood. One, the oldest, unfurled is banner, a great black longship against the setting sun.

“I am Gylbert Farwynd, Lord of the Lonely Light!” the tall lord declared proudly.

The Farwynds held lands on the westernmost shores of Great Wyk and the scattered isles beyond, rocks so small that most could support but a single household. Some said they were skinchangers, unholy creatures who could take on the form of sea lions, whales, and wolves of the wild sea.

As was the custom, Lord Gylbert spoke of the things he would do, the wonders he would make them see. He spoke of a wondrous land beyond the Sunset Sea, a land without winter or want, where death held no dominion over men.

“Make me your king and I shall lead you there!” he cried. “We will build ten thousand ships and sail with all our people to the land beyond the sunset. There every man shall be a King and every wife a Queen.”

_A fool_ , Asha thought and watched as the fool’s offerings were spilled out before the Kingsmoot. Among them were sealskins, walrus tusks, armrings made of whalebone, and warhorns banded in bronze. As expected, the captains turned away, leaving lesser men to help themselves to the gifts. Not long after, the fool’s champions began to shout their King’s name, but no one else joined their cries.

Thus, the fool was sent on his way and her Uncle Aeron stepped forward.

“I ask again. Who shall be our King?”

“Me!” a loud voice boomed and broke the silence that had settled over them. “Me!”

Said claimant was carried up the hill in a carved driftwood chair, resting on the shoulders of his grandsons. He was a great ruin of a man, twenty stones heavy, his shoulders cloaked in a white bearskin.

“Me!” he roared again after his grandsons had lowered him to the ground. “And why not? I am Erik Ironmaker, for those who forgot my name. Erik the Just. Erik Anvil-Breaker. Show them my hammer, Thormor.”

As promised, one of his grandson Thormor, who also posed as one of his champions, presented his grandfather’s weapon.

This hammer was a monstrous thing, its haft wrapped in old leather, it's head a brick of steel as large as a loaf of bread.

“I can’t count how many hands I have smashed to a pulp,” he boasted. “I also can’t say how many heads I have crushed against my anvil. I could tell you all the deeds I have done in battle, but I am an old man who wouldn’t live long enough to finish. If old is wise, no one is wiser than me. If big is strong, no one’s stronger than me. Do you want a King with heirs? I have more heirs than I can count. King Erik, aye, I like the sound of that. Come, say it with me, friends. Erik! Erik Anvil-Breaker! Erik King!”

As his grandsons roared their approval, their sons stepped forward, heavy wooden chests resting upon their shoulders. When they emptied them at the base of the stone steps, a torrent of silver, bronze, and steel spilled forth. Among them were rings, collars, daggers, dirks, and throwing axes. A few captains picked up these gifts and added their voices to the chant.

Asha had listened long enough and decided to make her voice heard.

“Erik!” she shouted mockingly. “Can you stand up?”

The crowd fell silent. Some of the men murmured to each other and others started to laugh.

“Girl!” Erik cursed. “Thrice-damned girl! What did you say?”

“I say, stand up!” Asha shouted. “Stand up and I shall join my voice to the others. Stand up and I will be the first one to follow you. You want a crown? Well, stand up and take it.”

Suddenly, she heard laughter spilling forth from the crowd. It was her Uncle Euron, who was mocking the old man with his laughter, though no further word left his mouth. Asha saw Erik’s hand tightening on the handle of his driftwood throne, his face turning purple. His arms trembled with effort as he struggled to rise. For the blink of a moment, Asha thought he might be able to stand, but then he sank back into his cushioned seat, her Uncle’s laughter growing louder and louder. Euron’s laughter grew louder and louder. It was a pitiful sight to behold.

“Who shall be our King?” her Uncle Aeron repeated his question. “Who shall be our King?

Again, the men gaped at each other. Some looked at her Uncle Euron, some at Victarion, and a few of them at Theon and Asha.

“Stake your claim, Victarion!” one of his champions called out. “Let us be done with this mummer’s farce!”

“Fools,” Victarion scoffed sternly and crossed his arms in front of him. “Have you no eyes? Balon’s son has returned and brought you a fine gift. The children of one of our enemies. Eddard Stark’s sons.”

“Who then shall be our King?” her Uncle Aeron asked again and Asha felt the urge to speak out, but her Uncle Aeron’s eyes darted again to her Uncle Victarion, his voice serious and demanding. It seemed he had already made his choice. “Nine songs were borne from the loins of Quellon Greyjoy. One was mightier than all the rest and knew no fear. Why should we have a boy rule over us instead of a man grown?”

Her Uncle Victarion’s black eyes searched her Uncle Aeron’s face as he stepped forward, the crowd of men parting before him like the waves before the prow of a ship.

“I am no usurper, brother,” her Uncle Victarion said and jerked his head at Theon and Asha. „Give him your blessing, Aeron.“

Theon stepped forward and flashed his Uncle Aeron a smile.

„Please give me your blessing, uncle.“

Her Uncle Aeron grimaced, opened his waterskin, and poured a stream of seawater on his brow.

“What is dead may never die,” her Uncle Aeron declared with reverence. “But rises again, harder and stronger.”

Theon rose back to his full height and Victarion and his men assembled around him. There were Ralf the Limper, Nute the Barber, and Red Ralf Stonehouse who carried the Greyjoy banner. As soon as the banner was unfurled, the captains began to shout her Uncle’s name.

After they had fallen silent, her brother spoke.

“You all know me only by name. I am Balon’s last living son that had been stolen away from his home by Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark. Now I am back and I have brought you a gift. My Uncle already alluded to it. I have Eddard Stark's sons.“

Theon had wanted to bring the boys here, but Asha had told him it would be foolish.

Silence followed. The silence was broken by Euron’s laughter.

"So you brought us, two children? Where are they?“ their Uncle asked mockingly.

„They are on my ship,“ Asha replied. „Uncle Victarion and every one of our crew can prove it. We truly have Eddard Stark’s sons.“

Her Uncle snickered as if Theon was nothing more than the dirt beneath his feet.

„So, what use are they for us?“

„They will bring us more gold than we can count,“ Theon insisted. „Robb Stak will pay it.“

„Robb Stark is piss poor,“ Euron snorted. „Just like the rest of the North. Balon was always a short-sighted fool. He was blinded by revenge instead of pursuing greater dreams.“

„Which are?“ Nute the Barber asked. „Speak, Euron Crow Eye, instead of mocking your nephew. Three years you were gone and you have nothing to for yourself.“

„Nute speaks true,“ Victarion scoffed. „Three years you sailed away. It seems the sea has not humbled you one bit.“

“What have you to show, brother? Have you taken a liking to Eddard Stark’s pup after all? Well, you have no sons of your own. His wives keep dying or so I heard. The boy might be Balon’s, but deep down he is a greenlander and Starkling. If he was a true Ironborn man he would have brought us the boy’s heads.“

Asha froze. Only her uncle would suggest something foolish like that.

„And throw away a grand price?“

„What grand price I ask again?“ Euron asked and looked around. „Besides, if he was worthy of the crown he would not have his sister speak for him.“

Asha laughed back at him in defiance and slipped her hand beneath her jerking to grab her teats.

“Oh, what’s this? Do you want to see it? Well, I suppose teats are such a terrible thing. Uncle, you have me there, I am a woman. Aye, I was born with tits, but Theon is still my brother, my blood. He is my father’s last living son and I shall defend his right in front of all, as will my champions.”

There was Quarl the Maid, Tristifer Botley, and the knight Ser Harras Harlaw, the famous sword Nightfall strapped to his hip.

Theon was also there, his hand now resting on the pommel of his blade.

„I can speak for myself,“ Theon said and grimaced. „And first I must ask what have you and father given the Ironborn? Well, what was that? Gold and glory, some say. Failed freedom, oh so ever sweet. Ah, he gave us that and widows too as Lord Blacktyde will tell you. How many of you had your homes put to the torch when King Robert came? How many had daughters raped and spoiled? Burnt towns and broken castles, my father gave you. Defeat is what he gave you and my Uncle will give you more of that.”

Euron smiled again and crossed his arms in front of him. „So what will you give us?“

„Wealth and land! Isn’t that what you always wanted?“

“No craven’s peace!” Ralf the Limper roared and Red Ralf waved the Greyjoy banner for her Uncle Victarion. The shouts were surging back and forth, like the sound of a terrible storm trying to engulf them until the sound of a horn split the air.

The sound was bright and baneful, a shivering hot scream that made a man’s bone thrum from within.

All eyes immediately turned towards the sound. One of her Uncle Euron’s mongrels was sounding a horn. He was a monstrous man with a shaved head, rings of gold, and jet glistening on his arms.

The horn itself was shiny black, twisted, and taller than a man. It was bound with bands of red gold, incised with ancient Valyrian glyphs and seemed to glow ever brighter as the sound grew louder.

And what a terrible sound it was. It was like a wail of pain and fury that burned in every man’s ear. Asha covered her ears and watched as the mongrel continued to sound the horn with great effort, his cheeks so puffed out they looked about to burst. Soon, the glyphs were burning, every line and letter glimmering with white fire.

Suddenly, the sound died down, leaving nothing but silence after the hornblower’s breath had failed him at last.

Then, her Uncle Euron started to climb up the hill, his movements slow and deliberate. The gulls circling above his head screamed in terror as if the very presence of him scared them.

Euron stopped at the doors of the Grey King’s Hall and turned his smiling eye upon the captains.

“Ironmen,” he said. “You have heard my horn. Now hear my words. I am Balon’s brother, Quellon’s eldest living son. Lord Vicon’s blood runs through my veins and the blood of the Old Kraken. Yet I have sailed farther than any of them. Only one living Kraken has never known defeat. Only one has never bent his knee. Only one has sailed to Asshai by the shadow and seen wonders and terrors beyond imagination…” he continued, but Asha cut him off.

“Then go back there,” Asha scoffed.

As expected, her Uncle didn’t even look at her.

“My little brother would give us Balon’s ways and my sweet niece would give us peace and a Starkling King,” he said, his blue lips twisting into a smile. “From me, you shall have so much more.”

“Crow’s Eye, you call me. Well, who has better eyes than a crow? A crow can espy death from afar. I tell you, all of Westeros is dying, the world is dying, threatening to be swallowed by shadows, but those who follow me will live and feast forever.”

Then, he paused and swept his gaze over the silent crowd. “We, the Ironborn were once conquerors. Our ships instilled fear wherever they sailed. Our way was always the way of war, but my sweet niece promises you peace. I shall give you all that was lost. Highgarden. The Arbor. Oldtown. The Riverlands and the Reach, the Kingswood and the Rainwood, the Mountains of the Moon and the Vale of Arryn, Tarth and the Stepstones. I say we take it all. I say, we take Westeros.”

Then, he cocked his head and looked at Uncle Aeron.

“All for the greater glory of the drowned god!”

“Crow’s Eye!” Asha shouted. “Have you lost your wits in Asshai? We couldn’t even hold the Westerlands against King Robert. How can we win take the Seven Kingdoms?”

"Why it has been done before,” her Uncle mocked her, his smiling blue eye-piercing into hers. Others would have shuddered in fear, but Asha met his gaze directly. “Did Balon teach his girl so little of the ways of war? Victarion, it seems our brother's daughter has never heard of Aegon the Conqueror."

"Aegon?" Victarion asked and crossed his arms. "What has the Conqueror to do with us?"

"I know as much of war as you do, Crow's Eye," Asha replied. "Aegon Targaryen conquered Westeros with dragons."

"And so shall we," Euron Greyjoy promised. "That horn you heard I found amongst the smoking ruins of Valyria, where no man has dared to walk but me. You heard its call and felt its power. It is a dragon horn, bound with bands of red gold and Valyrian steel engraved with enchantments. With this horn, I can bind dragons to my will."

Asha couldn’t help but laugh.

"Sadly, there are no more dragons."

"Again, you are wrong, my girl. There are three and I know where to find them,” he declared and bared his teeth. ”Surely, that is worth a driftwood crown?”

Asha stared at him in defiance as the Kingsmoot erupted in loud cheers. Theon frowned and dropped his hand from his blade.

They had lost and now they had to decide what to do. To join their Uncle or to choose exile? That was the question.

…

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rewrite of the story: The Red Door.
> 
> Just to explain a few changes I have decided on: Dany and Jon are older. Dany is sixteen at the beginning and the other characters are also aged up. Beyond that the story has nothing to do with the show. 
> 
> I will also make some changes here and there to the storyline. I think I will shorten and change the Meereen part and have Jon and Dany go earlier to Westeros. I will also change the fate of some other chracters, but in essenceit will be similar as the old story.
> 
> For those who prefer the old. I will not delete it or anything. Don't you worry. The ending will be similiar, so no fear there.
> 
> I will update when I can.


End file.
